The Summer of a Thousand Dreams
by assiage
Summary: A glimpse into what might have been. Hard T rating.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I don't own. The original characters belong to James Fenimore Cooper, and Michael Mann. OCs are mine.

Taking a different approach, both writing wise and story telling. Hope you all enjoy this. Mostly canon (closer to the script) until the cliffs.

* * *

 _The Summer of a Thousand Dreams_

* * *

 _Chapter One_

Alice Munro felt herself jerked forward as the canoe continued to hurdle dangerously nearer to the rapids, the same rapids that led to the sharp incline of the falls. The deadly falls.

 _I am going to die._

Her stomach dropped so suddenly that, for several terrifying seconds, Alice thought they may have gone over the falls after all. She had a sudden vision of herself and her sister, eyes vacant, bloated, smashed against the wet rocks below.

Alice screamed in terror.

She felt her sister Cora's vice-like grip on her hand; she felt it but could not squeeze her fingers back in any show of solidarity.

 _I am going to die in this god-forsaken, savage land._

Several minutes- or perhaps it was mere moments- later, the canoe was beached into the rough, sandy banks.

Shuffling quickly out along with the others, Alice was pulled and pushed, stumbling as she went. She listened to the voices of the men and their murmurs, trying in vain to focus on anything to keep her flagging hopes up.

Craning her head back, she watched as Nathaniel pushed their canoe off the embankment, his mouth set in a grim line. Along with the other one Duncan had just dispatched, it crashed through the rollicking waves, and fell through the falls.

Alice shivered. The canoes were splintered somewhere far below them- in watery graves.

* * *

The hours passed as slowly as a funereal procession, as slowly as dying every minute.

Everyone was soaked to the bone. The tempers had flared among the men, confined as they all were in this dank, dark place. Nathaniel and Duncan, two of the more hot-headed men Alice knew. It was steel meeting iron. A continual clash of dislike and jealousy. And now… now they were all backed into this hole in a mountain, arguing over powder and English military law.

Cora sobbed on the ground, her knees to her chest, her dark hair wild and fanning around her with the mist of the careening falls. Alice wanted to crawl to her sister, but something stopped her. She did not want to feel her sister's half-hearted hugs, nor listen to her words of comfort. She was only forcing herself to be brave for Alice. There was no point in denying her the truth. Let Cora have her pain.

Now, there was only terror.

It hung above them all, a dark fog.

 _He is coming. Her nightmare had a face. The Huron._

Alice knew it; she knew it as well as she knew her own face, her name. Death was looming.

The cold was becoming unbearable. Alice stood shakily and began to walk towards one of the winding, dark turns of the labyrinthian cavern. She walked, and staggered, and walked, drawing her fingers against the walls as she went.

Very soon, she saw something that drew a lump in her throat.

 _Stars._

The stars of the night sky shone as a beacon would, beckoning her closer. A thing of beauty in this horrid country.

Alice felt dazed as she crept closer to the shimmering starlight. She lifted a hand, palm outstretched, feeling the spray of the falls saturate her anew.

She wanted to get as close as possible… She was teetering on the edge….. she wanted to touch it. She wanted to-

" _Get back!"_

The air left her body, and Alice was falling back. Her stomach lurched at the sudden sensation.

She screamed and struggled against the embrace that enveloped her, arms clasped so tightly around her slight frame.

 _Uncas._ She realized it belatedly as his deep voice murmured her name. He pressed his warm lips to her brow with a tenderness that Alice had not expected. Sweeping her dripping hair from her face, he pulled her more securely against him, looking out to ascertain that she had not revealed their position.

 _Uncas._

His strong body had a warmth that she so craved. She had felt it that night when they had hidden at the burial ground. Seeing her struggle to contain her fear, Uncas had quickly dropped his rifle and rolled her beneath him, one large hand covering her mouth. He had smelled of grass and pine trees.

"Miss Alice," Uncas whispered, his breathing soft, "go to your sister." He began to loosen his arms.

At this, Alice's eyes opened and she craned her head back to stare at his shadowed black eyes. She didn't want to leave his embrace. She felt safe. He always made her feel so safe.

"Uncas…" was her faint response. She held onto his soaked shirt even tighter, shaking her head. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to have to face what was out there. She wanted to remain in his embrace for as long as she could.

He gently began to unwind her hands. She clung onto him even as he continually whispered that she must return to the others. _She must._

Without thinking, she brushed his hands aside and climbed onto him, her thighs around his hips.

His eyes widened. In the few short days that they had known each other, and despite all the dangers they had faced, this was the first time he looked startled.

It was not enough. Some impulse was guiding her actions, and all she could do was surrender herself to it.

Alice raised herself on his lap higher. She leveraged herself by placing her hands on his shoulders- her lips met his. Warm, inviting, seeking.

Uncas drew back, his eyes boring into hers. His resolve to send her back was still there, but it was his hands that betrayed him. His hands always did. Guiding her, helping her up, silencing her struggles; his hands betrayed his affection for an English girl. His hands now moved of their own accord around her slender waist, his thumbs roving-

He withdrew, his eyes contrite. He could not touch that which was not his.

Alice shivered. The horrific dread that had been building in her erupted. Suddenly her mind was careening. She let the fear wash over her. It erased everything from her memory, from her life. All she could see was him.

What happened next was so quick, and almost without reason. It was everything. It was her fear, her panic, her heartache. It was his hands, and his eyes, and his kindness.

She pressed herself against him in a frenzied motion, her knees contracting against his hips. She wanted more. She wanted to feel as much as she could. It was beyond thinking now.

Alice heard his breathing quicken. He looked down at his lap, his hands moving up slowly from her waist to her ribs.

It wasn't enough. She lifted her skirts.

The next several minutes were chaotic, a contrast of emotions- his carefulness with her unrestrained motions. She wanted to feel, and feel she did.

She felt the sharp sting that blossomed in her body, but which she ignored. She felt his tumescence and warmth and solidness filling her. As Alice whispered his name, she felt them both arching towards the other, his hipbones scraping hers, because they both must have felt the same sense of time running out.

Afterward, he held her against him, his breathing slowing to soft pants. She felt both of their fast beating hearts. She felt her descent back from her frenzied last few minutes. She was lightheaded, and with more than just fatigue.

Alice stiffened.

 _What have I done?_

Uncas's hands steadied her, and he began to braid a section of her drenched, limp hair. They were still in the same position they had been. She hadn't moved since they had…had….

Wrenching free from his grasp, Alice stood quickly and, ignoring the man she had just laid with, made her way back to the others.

She could feel his gaze on her.

Alice resolved not to look at him again

* * *

The blinding sun flashed unforgivably down upon the world. A mockery. There was no more beauty left, only death.

Alice was being dragged like a piece of baggage by the Huron braves, who followed their leader in a silent procession up the winding mountain. When she stumbled and fell, there was no helping hand. She was dragged upon the ground, scraping herself roughly, until she was able to right herself.

Her father was dead. Her sister was dead. The last she had seen of their saviors, they had leapt into the roaring falls of their hideaway, hundreds of feet in the air. She doubted their survival. She hoped her death would be swift, for she was tired of the world. She was seventeen years old, and she wished for eternal rest.

A crack rent the air. It was a sound Alice had become only too accustomed to.

What she did not expect was to see Uncas barreling toward them, his face set in grim determination.

 _Uncas._

Her wide eyes scanned his appearance. He looked relatively unharmed, tough bloodied and bruised, his green shirt torn.

His eyes locked with hers. She could read it in his fierceness; _I will save you._

Uncas dispatched the Hurons easily, one after the other, until the fight came to an impasse when he clashed head-on with Magua; the brutality and skill of the older man was truly shocking.

Alice, in her daze, could see that Uncas was growing tired, and was being outmaneuvered. Magua's knife glinted menacingly in the sunlight, winking at her, as he hacked and sliced into the flesh of his younger opponent.

At one point, Uncas staggered back and peered down at the blood pouring from his abdomen, his eyes lit with surprise at his injuries. In his determination and rashness, he had not anticipated being injured. His eyes jerked up to lock on hers. There was a stunned sort of apology in them _._

With a sudden leap, Uncas sprang at the Huron captain, using the last of his ebbing strength to knock the other man off balance, and both of them slammed and rolled onto the promontory.

There was a reckless desperation in every move that Uncas made, and Alice, having grown up around soldiers, knew that he was on the losing side. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, hope dwindling.

The Huron stood up, his bearing erect, his knife pointed menacingly towards his prey. He made no move to attack the injured man, instead allowed him to stagger to his feet to attempt one last assault.

He was losing. He would die, and with him would go her chance at salvation.

After standing, Uncas made one final lunge, which the Huron easily deflected. Just as quickly, facing him, Magua drove his blade into Uncas' side, causing him to cry out in pain as he tried to twist his body around.

Alice could no longer bear it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned away. _Coward till the end._

The brave that gripped her arm suddenly squeezed her so tight that she gave a pained gasp. He released her and reached for his tomahawk. Alice was briefly jostled by the other braves as they, too, reached for their weapons. She flattened herself against the mountain wall.

 _What?-_

The world exploded in a volley of rifle shots. The world seemed to tilt for the young English girl, and she grasped the rocks behind her in a mindless panic.

Chingachgook. He ran past them all in a blur of colors, lifting his war club, and gave a frightful war cry that rose to the heavens. He met Magua head-on, who turned to face this new opponent, dropping the limp body of Uncas onto the ground.

Nathaniel was not long in arriving, mere seconds, and he raised a rifle in each hand, shooting down his targets easily. Two Huron men contorted in the air and fell like rag dolls.

Magua knew that the circumstances had changed away from his advantage. His lips curled in a snarl as he attacked Chingachgook, and was blocked at every turn.

It was over with startling precision. Chingachgook spun, and caved the other man's back and spine in with his gunstock club. The crack his broken body made was as loud as a musket shot.

Alice, numb from shock and pain, looked around at the sudden silence. Dead men littered her line of vision.

Nathaniel and his father quickly knelt before an unconscious Uncas, assessing his injuries, carefully feeling his pulse. It must have looked grim, for Nathaniel's eyes were unnerved.

Alice took a single, faltering step towards Uncas, when she was almost knocked down with the force of her sister's embrace. She was stunned at her sudden appearance.

"Alice!"

Her sister was alive. Her dear sister. That was all that mattered.

Alice drew back from Uncas, unsure of anything now. Her heart beat fast at the sight of her would-be savior's injuries. Should she….

Cora clung to her tighter.

"It is over," she whispered to her younger sister.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

* * *

It was a few weeks after the cliffs when Alice's tilted world began to slowly right itself.

Try as she might, she had not been able to remember the somber days right after her ordeal had ended. It had all been a blur. She did not even quite remember leaving the side of the mountain. When she had asked Cora if she had been carried, her sister replied that no, she had walked on her own, trailing after the others that had held Uncas aloft in a make-shift litter.

Currently, their situation was much improved. They had returned to New York colony without much further incident, other than the gravely wounded Uncas.

She was starting to recall much more on how Uncas had survived. Chingachgook had presented her stalwart sister with reedy bone needles that he always carried, and she had immediately tended to Uncas, assisted by the men. The sutures hadn't been catgut. They were something else, something much more sinewy. They had made splints for him out of cider and birch and leaves. More impressively was how they had managed to stop some of the hemorrhaging. Stones. Stones heated until they were lit red were placed over Uncas's wounds.

For days his fever had raged, and for that the men had prayed hard in their tongue, while dousing him in water and making boiled concoctions of herbs and tree bark to work down his throat.

Alice had been useless. She hated the sight of blood, and she trembled when she was not near her sister. Cora, for her part, had done little more than fuss over her when she was not tending to Uncas. Nathaniel had seemed exasperated by this, though he had strove to hide it.

But that was over with. Once Uncas was out of danger, they had been able to leave their forest camp.

For days they had traveled, and during the nights they rested. The summer nights were thick, saccharine, warm in the Americas. Their respite had turned bittersweet as they'd returned to the frontier homesteads, many of which had been burned or abandoned. One of them caught their attention as it appeared uninhabited, though it had been ransacked by parties unknown. Alice was able to understand that the owners of the farm were missing. Whether they had died or fled remained unexplained. The men decided that, for the time being, this was where they would remain.

The Driessen farm not overly large, nor well-equipped. Not any longer, in the very least, now that it had been looted so appallingly. Alice felt distinctly ill at ease to be trespassing upon the home of other people. Then she recalled the carnage at the Cameron's farm and decided this was infinitely better than being greeted by corpses.

Presently, it was a warm summer day, and Alice had finished her chores. She had washed the household members' clothes until her hands were red and sore, and hung them up besides the linen to dry. She wished she could wash her torn and dirtied dress as she knew she looked as a hoyden would, but that discomfort would have to wait.

Alice sat on the shadowed hayloft of the barn, slowly swinging her legs. She had not been idle, she knew this, but since she had arrived at the Driessen farm, she had felt increasingly isolated from the others. She had been unable to look at Uncas, who had slept by the fire, tended to night and day by the others.

She supposed she was embarrassed. She had behaved in a most outrageous and shameless manner. She had flung herself at a man and laid with him on the ground, like a common strumpet. It was so humiliating. What if he told his brother? And Nathaniel told Cora?

 _I will die of shame!_

For this reason, Alice found herself shrinking from everyone else. She woke early and did her chores as her sister instructed, but with no real joy or satisfaction. She washed and scrubbed and did her best to cook, but had to be prompted.

Nathaniel's pique had changed, becoming more of a amused puzzlement and brusque kindness. Alice was starting to realize that Nathaniel did not, in fact, dislike her. Rather he was concerned about Cora not taking care of her own self.

Cora had always been solicitous of her younger sister's sentiments and welfare. These past few weeks, however, she had taken an extreme approach. She had become Alice's shadow, and spent far too much time telling her to rest, and checking her pulse, telling her to eat….

As if she were the one that had nearly died.

Uncas had been slowly recuperating for weeks. She had not had the nerves to sit by him. She was too embarrassed.

Alice drew her legs up to her chest as she recalled yesterday's incident.

 _Nathaniel called her over to the table where they had been partaking of their suppers since arriving. He motioned her to sit with a hand that clutched a chunk of bread. Nodding in greeting, he stuffed the bread into his mouth and chewed leisurely, tossing her an amused smirk._

" _Hungry, Alice?"_

 _She nodded quickly, sitting besides Cora that was ladling stew into her bowl._

 _As the others tucked in, Alice looked around quickly. Uncas was not well enough yet to walk, and she had not seen much of him, under strict orders as he was (by his father) to not move from his place by the fire._

" _Uncas!" called out a startled Cora, "how are you feeling? Be seated, I will serve you. Supper is plentiful tonight."_

 _Alice flinched sharply, dribbling water down her chin from the tankard she was drinking._

" _Thank you," came Uncas's low voice. He limped over to them with a nod of greeting, before seating himself on the bench beside his brother, and across from Alice._

 _Alice felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Beneath it all, however, was a hint of shame that she had not visited Uncas once during his repose in his sick bed. She should have thanked him for saving her life._

 _Alice took smaller sips of water as she watched the men speak to each other in their tongue. Peeking her eyes up, Alice watched as Uncas's large hand closed around the bottom of an earthenware bowl, his long fingers flexing. She sipped too much all of a sudden, and Alice was seized with a coughing fit. Cora rubbed her back in soothing circles._

" _Alright?" came Uncas's deep tones, his black eyes trained on her._

" _Y-yes," she wheezed, eyes streaming. "Forgive me."_

 _Their eyes met, and she could see the concern swirling in their depths._

 _Alice was sudden overcome with acute self-consciousness. They were all staring at her in silence._

 _Her gaze flicked to Chingachgook, who was whittling a carving. His own gaze was solemn, unsmiling._

 _Why were they staring at her? Did they know?_

 _Rising quickly, Alice dipped into a curtsy and, ignoring Nathaniel's grunt of amusement, headed outdoors._

" _Where is she going?" Cora's worried whisper carried in the breeze._

" _Probably the barn," Nathaniel muttered, "pass the bread."_

 _Alice could already see the smirk on his face, his blue eyes cynical._

Well, that was yesterday, Alice thought bracingly. She figured it was best to lay low until she could figure out what to do. She loathed to think of leaving her dear sister, but more and more the idea arose in her mind—

Return to England, where she belonged.

The hayloft she was in smelled slightly of animal manure and a wet, cloying scent that hung over every nook. The hay was dry and coarse stemmed. Still, any chance she had, Alice welcomed the isolation. She would climb the rickety ladder and curl into the piles of hay. It made her drowsy, and she had been feeling unusually lethargic as of late.

Lifting her hands, Alice gently grasped a section of hair on the right side of her face, and began to idly twist the golden strands into a braid.

So consumed was she in her daydreaming that Alice scarcely noticed the shadow that suddenly blotted out the sun.

She stopped with a gasp at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Miss Alice."

She took a deep breath and prayed for composure. "Uncas! How are you faring?"

He dipped his head, the sunlight gleaming on his dark tresses. He walked inside the barn, glancing around. "I thought I'd find you here."

Alice tried to smooth her hair unobtrusively, wincing as she found several thick stalks of the grass-hay in her hair.

She cleared her throat. "May I be of any assistance?"

Uncas crept soundlessly to the ladder and planted his hands on the sides bracingly. He felt the wooden beams and cocked his head. "Be careful. Ladder needs mending."

"Thank you," she whispered, relaxing her legs enough to tuck them under her dress.

"Welcome."

"No, thank you, truly… for… everything. For saving my life. At the cliffs."

Alice could barely see his eyes in the dusty darkness, yet she could sense the intensity in them.

Looking at him again, Alice realized he was studying her half-finished braid. The moments stretched on interminably, until he grunted and looked out of the barn.

"Your sister asked me to find you."

"Why?"

"She doesn't want you to stray far."

Alice sniffed delicately. "I am never far. I like it here."

Uncas's lips curved infinitesimally into a ghost of a smile. "I know you like it. Still. You need sunlight. You look unwell."

"I'm just tired," whispered Alice, "I… do not sleep well."

"Come with me."

She felt a thrill of nervousness. "Where to?"

"River. I'm going to catch our supper tonight. You can help."

Catch supper, indeed! Ladies did not hunt or fish. But… she did want to carry her weight around as much as the others. And Uncas looked well enough, but perhaps he shouldn't strain himself…

Alive nodded stoutly. Shimmying her way to the ladder, Alice smoothed her skirts and began her careful descent. She hoped he would give her a wide berth, as she could not be certain her ankles were showing.

After hopping lightly onto the ground, she noticed with satisfaction that he had adhered to her mental wishes and was waiting outside, his posture relaxed. There were a spear and a net near his feet.

"Ready?" he inquired. She eyed his tribal tattoos peeking out of his blue shirt. Their eyes met.

"I am ready."

* * *

Filler chapter, mainly.

I had planned to write the entire story from the POV of Alice, but now I am wondering if the perspective should be shared by Uncas as well. Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

* * *

Alice sat on the banks of the river, eyeing the frothing water wistfully. She yearned for a bath. They were few and far in between now. In the very least, she longed to dip her feet into the current. It would be heavenly to feel the coolness of water on her heated skin.

Uncas was standing in the middle of the stream, motionless, holding aloft a crudely assembled wooden spear that ended in three intimidatingly sharp tips. He was so still that he reminded Alice of antiquated statues and busts of yore. He had been standing still in the stream for several minutes.

"You can dip your legs."

He said this so suddenly that Alice's head snapped up, perplexed. His back had been to her since he first stepped into the water, and she had not spoken… hadn't she? How could he know what she was thinking?

Alice cleared her throat delicately. "I thank you, sir, for the suggestion, but I am afraid I cannot do such a thing."

Uncas lowered the spear a fraction and turned to face her, askance.

"Why?" he asked plainly.

Alice spoke without thinking. "It is most improper for a gentleman to see a lady's ankles and— and—"

Uncas's sharp, dark brow arched with a hint of incredulity.

There was an awkward silence.

Alice felt tears of humiliation well in her eyes, and she tried valiantly to keep them at bay. She had managed to not think of her rash tryst with the young warrior for a short while, and now memories of her wayward actions raced to the forefront of her weary mind.

 _Shame. Disgrace._

Uncas cocked his head to the side, and his black eyes were suffused with caution and compassion. And something warmer— he looked at her with longing.

The look shared between the two caused something to lurch in Alice's belly. It was a traitorous sensation to Alice, as she knew it was the hidden hint of desire she herself had felt for Uncas since the night at the burial ground, when he had wrapped her in his strong arms.

Uncas's voice was gentle as he spoke to her, "You- we- did nothing wrong, Miss Alice."

Alice covered her face with her hands, feeling her countenance burning.

"Please!"

She sensed rather than saw him slowly approach her and she buried her face deeper into her fingers, shaking her head quickly.

He stopped.

Alice looked up and met his gaze timidly. His look was still strong and proud, and he met her scrutiny unflinchingly. As usual his concern for her shone more strongly than anything else.

"Please… do not tell anyone."

"What?" Uncas asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Do not tell my sister what I did. Or your brother. Please!"

Uncas shook his head. "It was between us."

Alice smiled tremulously, almost sagging with relief. She knew he was honorable and honest. He would not reveal her scandalous actions.

He gave her a hint of a smile back, turning back to walk into the stream, his grip sure on his spear. He resumed his silent, still stance.

Alice drew her long legs and knees up to her chest. She felt slightly better. What had happened would stay a secret, and nobody important would ever find out.

"Why do you stand so still?" she asked, thinking of the fishermen she had always seen during her life, with large nets, and sturdy lines.

He did not turn around. "Make the fish think I'm one of them."

Alice giggled. Again, she could sense him without seeing him. She sensed his smile.

A few more minutes passed, and Alice was growing disinterested. Fishing really was a dreary business. She wished she had her drawing pencils, or a book of poetry. Even her embroidery.

In London there had been so much available to her, the well-bred daughter of an aristocratic army colonel. Here, besides her chores, there was not much to do. At least the scenery was beautiful. Alice shaded her eyes with a sigh and glanced around at the vivid greens and blues of her surroundings. She glanced at Uncas's solid back and shoulder, and could see the lines of his muscles though his calico shirt.

The scenery was, truly, very appealing.

"Want to come in?" Uncas asked gamely.

Alice was startled out of her thoughts at this.

"In… into the river?

"Yes," he said simply.

What a preposterous idea! Alice opened her mouth to reply in the negative when Uncas suddenly shot his arm down, so quickly that it was all a blur. Pulling the spear up and aloft, he examined the silver fish that wriggled helplessly. Gently, he pulled the creature out and looked at the bank where she was sitting.

"Are we done?" Alice asked hopefully.

Uncas shook his head. "One fish won't feed five people."

"Oh," she murmured, looking at the parched grass. Of course.

Walking forward, Uncas gently placed the fish on the grass by her. Alice grimaced at it's milky dead eyes and gaping little mouth.

Some time later, Uncas had caught and skewered several more fish. Alice, acting upon instructions from Uncas, had retrieved a basket from the cabin and was busy washing them.

Uncas crouched on his haunches by her. "Can you cut them?"

Alice faltered. "I have never done so, no."

He grunted. "You can help."

He brought forth a small but very sharp little dagger from his belt and quickly cut the fish's head off, then it's tail, and then slit it from cleanly in half, removing the delicate bones. Uncas passed her the knife and Alice balked, tugging on her hair and fidgeting.

Normally, if Nathaniel were present he would sigh exasperatedly, or Cora would send her inside with her motherly concern.

Uncas continually surprised her with his patience. Even now, he nodded and proceeded quickly to cut the rest of the fish himself, placing them into the woven basket.

Alice felt the need to defend herself for some reason.

"I… I will cook it. I will make it into stew."

"Alright," Uncas replied, his eyes intent on his handiwork. "There's an easier way. Could show you if you want. Later."

"Which way is that?" asked Alice curiously.

"Earth oven."

That was all he said, and Alice mulled over the phrase. She had never heard of such a thing.

He glanced up suddenly, his eyes intent. "The caves. Don't feel bad. You did nothing wrong."

Alice cursed her weakness as tears rose again. "I behaved worse than a… a…"

"No. Never," he raised a calloused thumb and wiped a stray tear, "It was my fault."

Alice looked at him, confused. "Why ever was it your fault?"

He looked troubled. "You are the young one. The innocent one."

Alice was taken aback. What he said did not correlate with what she had always been told of men's carnal appetites and women's wanton behavior. If a woman behaved as she had, the blame was only hers.

He turned his hand to her face, and stroked her partially unraveled braid. His touch befuddled her anew, as it was almost a catharsis to her pain.

Alice drew back, awkwardly wiping at her teeming eyes. "Forgive me," she murmured, "I fear I have been a watering pot these last few days." She gave a weak laugh at her jest.

"It's alright," he replied. He rose to his feet. "Coming?"

Alice shook her head. "I will return shortly."

Uncas nodded his acceptance, hefted the basket, spear, and net up, and turned to walk back to the cabin.

Alice waited until his form disappeared, then glanced uncertainly around for several moments, listening intently. Satisfied, she surreptitiously drew her skirts up slowly, inch my inch, and removed her long, dirtied stockings. She wriggled her way clumsily on her backside, internally horrified yet determined, until her toes and ankles and calves made contact with the water.

Alice shivered at the cold. Yet it felt _heavenly_.

With a contented sigh, Alice dumped her stockings into the water for a scrub, and splashed the cool water onto her face and hair.

She was content, she realized. Not happy. Not joyful. But she was satisfied with her life as it was now, with no enemies hunting she and her sister down, and the agony of a lost friend and father beginning to heal. Uncas had promised to guard their secret, and soon she would begin to make plans to return to Europe.

* * *

The month of September was coming to a close.

Alice scanned the newspaper intently by the light of the flickering candle. _The Courant_ was a rag of a newspaper that somehow made it's way up from New England; it was more renowned for slandering the local governors than actually spreading news of import, but Alice was not interested in such gossip. She was looking for the dates of departure of the ships docked in New York colony. The paper was dated a month or so before, and the last ship, one named _Agamemnon,_ had departed the previous week _._

 _Bloody hell._

So far her plan was to find a ship that would sail to London, ask one of the men to escort her to whichever dock, and then prevail upon the ship's captain to allow her passage. She would pay her passage once she was back on English soil. Once it became known she was a lady, they would help her, of course. As such Alice eagerly asked anyone she would encounter in town for a spare newspaper. Even disreputable ones such as _The Tattler-_ they were more popular and the printers could not churn them out fast enough.

Tossing _The Courant_ aside, Alice sighed heavily and thumbed through _The Gazette._ Nothing. She then glanced at _Poor Richard_ _'_ _s Almanack_ in mute frustration. The author was a rather clever fellow, but it was filled with farming techniques and nonsense regarding astrology calculations, as well as weather predictions.

"Come to bed, sister," came Cora's sleepy command from the cot they shared. Cora was not entirely certain of what Alice had planned, but Alice knew she suspected something. Alice would murmur something prosaic, or change the subject, when questioned. Cora would fret and plead with her to stay.

Alice sat straighter in the flickering firelight, her face contorting as her belly churned. There it was again, the sickness that had been plaguing her for weeks now. She could not eat, nor sleep, and would retch outside by the outhouse. For this reason she would prefer to sleep in the hayloft of the barn, a fact that horrified Cora to no end.

Rising carefully, Alice tiptoed to the door, opened it, and stepped nimbly out into the pale moonlight. The next second, however, she was sprinting away from the cabin towards the trees. She fell in an inelegant heap, scraping her knees painfully on a sharp rock or root. Alice shakily brushed her hair back as she vomited.

For several moments afterward, Alice thought with a wryness quite unlike her that if her relations in England and Scotland could see her now, they would not believe it was her. Perhaps they would think poor young Miss Alice Munro had been snatched by the wee fairy folk, who had then left a changeling in her stead. What _would_ they say, seeing her now so downtrodden, dirty, her fingers toughened by washing and other drudgery, sitting in her vomit?

A heavy hand firmly yet gently gripped her shoulder. _Uncas,_ she thought in dismay. She usually made sure to do this business of being sick on her own. He was out hunting with his brother, had he returned?…

Turning around, Alice started in surprise. "Chingachgook!" she whispered.

His deep black eyes were on her as he drew her up, then he placed a weathered hand on her elbow. Alice did not know the older Mohican man could be so amiable. He did not speak much to her, and rarely smiled.

"You have been sick for days," he commented. "I will make you a tea."

"Tea?" she asked delicately, remembering the foul smelling concoctions the three men would conjure of herbs and roots. Cora had drank some of the willow bark tree for her headaches, and said it had helped immensely. For this alone, Alice relented.

"I suppose it is from a tree bark of some sort?" she inquired tiredly.

Chingachgook nodded shortly as he led her towards the cabin.

"Beech tree."

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

He made no reply.

Both were silent as they entered the cabin, and he set about boiling water over the fire. Cora was asleep, and with his sons gone hunting, it was just the two of them awake.

A few minutes later he was pushing a wooden bowl towards her. "Drink."

Alice complied immediately, holding her breath as she downed the contents swiftly. She shuddered; it was a pity there was no sugar to be had.

"Too fast," he reprimanded. Alice glanced across the rough table. Their eyes met in the firelight. "Sip."

Bowl after bowl she drank at his direction, and she realized she did feel marginally better. Her stomach did not protest at the taste.

The next day, right after dawn, Nathaniel and Uncas returned from their hunting trip, and silently entered the cabin. They were met by a peculiar sight— Alice Munro, fast asleep at the table, a bear hide thrown over her small frame; and their father awake and alert across from her.

The early autumn day began to dawn outside the cabin, and there was much work to do.

* * *

Sorry for the delay, I re-wrote this several times. I decided to keep it Alice's POV mainly, and _maybe_ add Uncas's POV later. Thanks for all the kind reviews, especially Eilan21, MrsMargaret, and MohawkWoman. Have you all read MohawkWoman's fics? I just started and they are AMAZING! Very unique AU Alice/Uncas fics.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

 _I have never named my chapters, but this one I would call "Scars."_

* * *

"I beg ye pardon, Miss?" the burly sea captain asked incredulously; his hand had stilled in the act of reaching for his tankard of ale.

Alice's spirits began to sink.

It was a crisp, early afternoon, and Alice had accompanied a harried Nathaniel (who had not wanted to take her along) a few hours' walk to town to trade pelts for silver. In truth, Alice referred to it as "going to town" when, in reality, it was more a motley gathering near the wharf, of colonials selling their wares. There were also traders, Indians, and the like. It was quite an incongruous mixture, she thought, momentarily distracted by a tall, well-shaped woman with rouged cheeks and a cheerful disposition. Her bosom was far too exposed.

 _A... lady of the night?_

Alice forced herself to focus on the task at hand- although admittedly, it was not going well.

She smiled brightly, for she had always been told her smile was most pretty.

"I cannot pay for my passage on your ship at the moment, but I entreat you to understand my situation. Upon my honor, once we arrive back in London, I will pay for my passage and then some."

The hoary man gave a crooked smile. "Lass, it simple isn't done."

"I have no funds of my own."

"Then there's the rub. For you, at least. No money, no passage."

Alice sat straighter. "I have some paper money from the sale of my bracelet..."

"Ah!" he shook his shaggy, unshaven head. His dark blue eyes were cynical. "Paper money ain't worth the paper it's printed on, if it only stays in New York colony. T'aint useful to a sea captain. British pounds and shillings alone, Miss."

Alice felt a stab of pain in her heart upon hearing those words. That bracelet had been a gift from her father for her 16th birthday. She had not received much for it, a mere pittance, and it had been such a fine piece of jewelry.

"I just want to go home. I want to forget about what has happened here to my family. To me."

Alice blinked and stared down at her clasped hands, embarrassed at her candor. It was the truth, however. Nathaniel and Cora were soon to be wed, and where would that leave her? The unwanted, unmarried relative. The burden. Her sister would be a wife. Her life was ready to begin anew. And Alice was left with a shattered world to rebuild. England and Scotland were her home, her safety, her beacon in the night. She should be there, not groveling before a lowly sea captain and his ilk in this filthy wharf.

Glancing up, she realized Captain Eccles was concentrating on the marks on her wrists. The deep cuts where the ropes had rubbed her skin raw and bloody. Her flesh had healed but the scars remained.

The man sighed and shook his head, taking a long swig of ale. Her own drink stood forgotten, as her belly still rebelled at the smell of the watered down libation.

"I suppose I could allow ye passage," he said after a moment, thunking his drink down and wiping his mouth. Alice's eyes widened. "I will allow ye passage on the _Speedwell_ if ye pay me at least ha' before boarding, and the rest when we arrive at London."

Alice chewed her bottom lip, a seemingly resurrected nervous habit she had lost- or so she though- thanks to etiquette lessons and stern governesses. Where would she get British pounds sterling? But he had already reduced the price for her, and she felt she would do anything to reach civilization.

"When does the _Speedwell_ leave Albany?" she asked, scanning his face quickly.

"November 8th. After the Sabbath."

Alice nodded to herself. Taking a shaking breath, she brushed a strand of sun-bleached hair from her face and smiled.

"Do ye agree to the terms, Miss?"

"I do."

"Do ye understand my ship is not meant for luxury? It's a cargo ship that I sometimes take passengers in, indentured servants and the like."

"Yes."

He continued to press her. "Do ye? No doubt ye arrived here in a ship much more, ah, spacious?" He paused, awaiting an answer.

"The _Mary Constan_ t," Alice replied weakly, thumbing the frayed hem of her old cream-colored dress.

He snorted with amused disdain. The _Mary Constant_ was a renowned ship of the line, known for carrying high-bred passengers and aristocrats.

"Well, lass, this ain't no _Susan Constant_."

" _Mary Constant,_ sir."

"Right." He belched loudly, and Alice winced at his poor manners.

"If ye sail with me, my passengers and crew, it'd be best if ye understood what it would be like. Ye will share a cabin with others. Many others. No fresh food. Brackish water. The folks who will be yer cabin-mates... well, mayhap they will be from the stews. Port doxies and the like."

"I am perfectly aware, Captain Eccles." Alice huffed this with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Don't mean to imply that ye don't know B from a bull's foot," he replied in what he surely thought was a genial tone. "Just want to make sure ye understand the reality, is all. On ships diseases have no where to go but on the people. Pestilences and louse. Blood and 'ounds, Miss. It can be right dangerous, and ye chose an inconvenient time of the year to travel. 'urricanes and gales, lass."

Alice was having trouble deciphering his shipyard cant, and was also beginning to become unnerved. She refused to bow down to this fear.

"Do we have an agreement, sir?" she asked smoothly, extending a pale hand to the man across from her. They shook hands, and the captain's gaze slid to somewhere beyond Alice.

"That Jack 'o legs your man, by any chance?" he asked gruffly, drinking more ale. Alice craned her neck back and saw Nathaniel who stood motionless, eyes narrowed, assessing the scene before him.

"My... er... kinsman," she whispered, standing quickly, "I will meet you at the harbor on November the 8th, sir."

"Noon," he grunted, pushing his tricorn hat back to mop his damp brow.

"Yes, sir. And... discretion if you please, sir."

Captain Eccles shrugged. "And do not forget our terms, lassie! Half then, half later."

Alice nodded and sprinted to where Nathaniel stood.

Smiling winsomely, Alice tugged her shawl around her neck. "Are we leaving, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel eyed her sharply. "Are you done sneakin' about, Alice?"

She blinked and affected a confused air. "I came to purchase hair ribbons-"

"Which you haven't done," Nathaniel eyed her empty hands dubiously, "I told you we were here to trade pelts, not waste time."

His words stung. Alice swallowed thickly and arched a brow. "I assure you, I had a most productive morning," she retorted, then brushed by him to make her way to the path. He stared down the path after her, worried.

* * *

Days later Alice was feeling melancholic as she hung up the laundry to dry on the lines. What would happen once it became too cold, she wondered. Would the inhabitants have to wash and dry clothing in the cabin? What would happen if the original cabin owners or their relatives came by, and tossed Cora and her new family from this place? Alice did not want to think on it. She was beginning to feel very somber at the thought of leaving her only sister behind. Cora had left her many times over the years. Except now it was _she_ that was leaving, it was _she_ that was going to take a leap into the unknown void.

So why did she feel so badly about it?

Alice sighed and craned her neck up. According to Chingachgook, they were in the final sun drenched days before the autumn came. She loved the colors of the colonies. There were so many greens! She hadn't seen such beauty since she had left Inverness years before. The leaves were beginning to turn yellow.

Rubbing her sore hands together, Alice decided to sit by the river now that her chores were finished.

The walk there was brief, and she admired the water as she sat. She liked to sit still and pretend she was ripple in the glinting water. There she was minutes later, perfectly immobile, when Uncas crept soundlessly up to her.

"Miss Alice."

His deep, low voice came as a shock to her. Alice jumped in fright.

"Sorry, miss."

Alice laughed nervously.

"It's alright, Uncas." She suddenly realized that he had always addressed her formally than his family. Even his father referred to her as "moon-hair" and "girl."

"You don't have to call me Miss Alice. Just Alice on it's own. We are beyond formalities by now."

Uncas sat carefully beside her, though not too close. He said nothing for several minutes, instead concentrated on his thoughts and on the flowing water.

"You will be leaving."

It was not a command, but not exactly a question. Alice stared at him, eyes wide.

"I beg your pardon, Uncas?"

His eyes cut to her. "You are planning to leave us. Go to Albany and cross the sea."

Alice looked down at her hands. "How did you find out?"

"Nathaniel."

That was all he said, and Alice felt as though a heavy stone was in her belly. She felt like crying. She felt _guilty_.

"Alice," he said after a moment, reaching over and twining their fingers together. Her face reddened. "Alice. You have been sick. Stay until you are well."

"I.. I cannot," she whispered, tugging on her limp hair.

"Why?"

How could she explain what she herself could scarcely understand? She did not belong here. Nobody truly thought she could survive the wilderness, it was a miracle she had even made it this long, and...

"If I do not leave soon, I fear I will not leave at all."

"You could stay."

She signed heavily. "With my sister and Nathaniel?"

"No. With me."

Alice looked up quickly. There was no hesitation in his voice, or in his black eyes. His beautiful black eyes that always shone so warmly when looking at her. As if there was nobody else he desired to look upon. His steadfast certainty had always intrigued her, but now she felt overwhelmed. She felt as if her very heart were expanding. Alice was breathless with it.

She glanced down at the scars on his arms, remnants of his fight with Magua. It was a sobering sight.

"How long?"

His thumb stroked it's way between her thumb and forefinger. "As long as you want."

"I meant... how long until you begin to grow dissatisfied with me?"

"I-"

"I cannot do anything useful. I am not built for hard work. I cannot skin an animal, it horrifies me. I can barely cook- Uncas, I would be a burden. To you, and the others. Your brother barely tolerates me and only to keep in my sister's good graces, I am certain."

Uncas looked genuinely confused. "My brother cares for you. Perhaps his manner is not what you are use to. We are hunters and traders. Rough people."

"You are not rough," she retorted. No, he was nothing like Nathaniel, like their silent father.

His eyes softened. He seemed to struggle with what to say next, before sighing and turning his attention back to the bubbling river.

"You are sure? You will leave us?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"The 8th of November." She quickly told him what she and Captain Eccles had discussed in terms of payment, and Uncas told her he would help pay for her passage, brushing aside her embarrassed stammers.

"Uncas, why would you do this?"

"I will if it makes you happy. To return."

"And you all? Where will you go?" she asked, concerned, her earlier misgivings rising.

"West of the Hudson. We will winter in the Ohio Valley. My brother and your sister will marry. Build a home."

"And yourself? Your father?"

"We will spend the winter with my Delaware brethren."

"Why?"

His grip on her slender hand tightened. Alice's heart beat faster as several thoughts faced through her mind. He would be lost to her forever, she knew.

"You will wed?"

Instead of answering, he gently withdrew his hand and, leaning over slightly, began to braid her hair.

* * *

That night Alice could not sleep. She missed the solitude of the hayloft, the sliver of the moon and the stars that shone through the small cracks in roof and wall. Sometimes when she was able to steal away, she would hear the howling of wolves in the distance, but only on certain nights. In an odd way, Alice felt she could identify with the wolves. Their howling was lonesome. As if they wanted something with all their hearts.

Another reason Alice was unable to find slumber was she was trying to remember the name of a young maid that had been employed in her home in London years before. She could not stop thinking of her. Martha, though she was known as Mattie. She had been a housemaid, a smiling, cheeky girl that doted on Alice, kissed her goodnight, and told her stories. She had called her little charge "Elsie." At least, that was what Alice chose to remember about her. She had dallied with the wrong man and found herself with a rather pressing need for a husband, as they said. She had been turned out by the housekeeper as she started to expand. Alice had wept as Mattie left for the final time.

Turning onto her side gingerly, Alice winced. Her body had been peculiarly sore for weeks. Alice normally slept curled onto her side, but that was near impossible now. She could only sleep on her back, which she disliked immensely. Her bosom and belly were tender. She was sick more often than not.

Sick, and tired, and sore.

 _Like Mattie was._

* * *

Alice hurried into town the next morning, gasping from a painful stitch on her side. She had left before dawn, making such a quick dash that she scarcely watched where her feet landed. Nathaniel had been awake and inquired where she was going, but she had only mumbled "barn," distractedly.

 _Out. Away. I will run away from you all._

Her heart was beating fast and erratic- every few minutes it would lurch uncomfortably, as if it would fly out of her chest.

The day was overcast and very cool, foretelling rain in the coming days. She did not tarry. Looking around, she spotted an attractive older woman she had noticed once or twice. Women came and went into her oilskin tarp, or bought medicine and herbs from her. She was... a midwife?

Alice approached her and spoke directly and without preamble.

"I need to know why I am so ill."

The woman gave a toothy smile, her red hair glinting in the early morning dew. "Oh, aye? My name is Nell. Can you pay?"

Alice nodded, and showed her the paper money she had, to which the taller woman nodded her towards the tarp. She instructed Alice to lie down on her back. It was very dark. Alice did as she was told, though she felt distinctly ill at ease. For the next quarter of an hour, she was poked and prodded and asked questions of a very personal nature.

"When did you last have your courses?"

"I do not remember. I was in Albany, so I suppose it was in July."

After several more questions, she was told to sit up.

"You are with child, miss."

Alice squeezed her eyes shut. She felt she would faint. She wanted to die. Her life was over. She was _ruined_.

The woman continued, as she gathered some herbs and plants together and made a small pack for Alice.

"Two months or so? Have a word with your mother, if you can. Tis only natural to be frightened the first time."

"I have no mother," Alice whispered bitterly, her head hanging low, the first of the stinging tears seeping through her lashes.

The ther woman paused.

"No man?"

Alice did not know how to answer that. "N-no. No man."

The woman sighed and shook her head. "Well, stand up, little miss. I have a pack for you."

Alice wiped her eyes and listlessly took what the older woman offered. Mostly it was medicine for her nausea, but the last few items took her aback.

"What?" she whispered, wiping her eyes.

"Take the willow bark and motherwort in a tea. Drink three times a day. If nothing happens after three days, you must stop taking it immediately. Do you understand?"

Alice did not, not truly. "What is suppose to happen in three days time?"

"Why, it will bring about your flux, of course."

"My flux? I thought..."

"It will stop the pregnancy. But too much can be dangerous. Just three times a day for three days. You will bleed and then be right as rain. Is this not what you want?"

She made no reply.

Alice stepped out of the shabby tarp, cold and numb, her pack safely bundled in her dress. Her hands felt like ice, and were shaking. The strange woman, Nell, had refused her payment, instead wishing Alice well.

This time she took her time walking back to the cabin, arriving around midday. She almost never wept, not even when her father died. Yet every few minutes her body shook as hot tears poured out. She was in extremis.

Rounding the corner towards the cabin, Alice's senses were assaulted.

"Alice!" Cora screamed, pulling her into a hug, but Alice side-stepped her. She vaguely noticed Cora's face taut with fear and relief, her light-colored blouse and skirt swaying in the breeze.

"Where were you?" Cora wailed, "the men were about to leave to go find you! I thought you were in that blasted hayloft, and-"

The commotion drew the rest of the inhabitants out, and Alice stiffened and immediately began to make her way to the barn. She could not face the men, especially him.

"Alice, where have you been?" Nathaniel queried loudly, his voice concerned, as she swept past them.

"I am back now," she murmured.

Cora would not be deterred. "Alice, I insist that you explain to me what it is that-"

Alice's fragile hold on her temper snapped.

"Cora, for once in my life, won't you leave me alone?!" she shouted, slamming the door of the barn behind her and plunging into the darkness.

Curling into the hayloft, she breathed deeply, and forced her eyes closed.

 _I am safe. I am in Inverness. I am warm. I am with my mother._

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, they mean so much to me. What do you guys think?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Uncas was a solitary figure sitting by the river, meditating. While he should have been clearing his mind of his troubles, the only thoughts that raced through his mind were about blonde hair, a shy smile, and pretty eyes.

Uncas was perturbed over Alice's behavior the last few days, beginning with her disappearing for several hours, and then her angry outburst towards her sister. Of the two women, Alice was the one that clung the most to their old lives. She was all manners and stilted conversation, she sat with her back very straight, ate small bites (when she was not ill) and took small sips of any drink. To see her artificial facade begin to crack was worrisome, to say the least.

 _She is not mine. She will never be mine._

This was the mantra that Uncas would repeat to himself when confronted by his buried feelings for the English girl. He had thought she felt the same. In his desire for her, he had misread many things. Such as when she gave herself to him in the caves under the fall. In those fevered moments he thought she must have felt the same for him. That he was claiming her as his. Her hair and her scent, her warm body wrapped around his weakened him. He should have resisted. Her heated flesh had clouded his judgement. But no, he hadn't been strong enough for the both of them. He could not reach her anymore, in more than one way. Instead, she was broken and wounded, and wanted refuge only in her homeland.

Not in the arms of a red man.

* * *

It was days later, and the inhabitants of the cabin were about to hold a family meeting.

"We have to leave soon," Nathaniel announced gravely, his long face illuminated by the firelight.

Their father nodded, puffing at his pipe, his eyes alert.

Cora's face was lit with concern, and Uncas knew why. It would be a long journey in the cold months, and they had already been delayed by the logistics of it all.

A red coat on horseback had visited them that morning, to convey that all the farms that were uninhabited now belonged to the crown. By uninhabited he meant that the proper owners were dead, and the land had to be cleared of poor colonials and Indian squatters. The irritating man could barely hide his disgust towards Uncas and his family as he nodded curtly and rode away.

That morning they had all had a home, no matter how temporary, a fire, and beds for the women. Now they had nothing. It had been that easy to uproot them all, so effortless, like the seasons turning.

It would help spur them along, thought Uncas philosophically. He needed to begin to ready himself mentally for all that was to come, and in that would be the hardest goodbye of all.

He looked at her, at Alice Munro, who had somehow in the last few days lost her ladylike pose, the color in her cheeks, and the light in her eyes. Her soft brown eyes were now blank; or they would appear to be, if she were actually looking at him. Alice was not even hiding her disinterest in the conversation, her face was resting on her upraised knuckles as she studied the fire.

"Tell us the plan again, Nathaniel?" Cora murmured. His brother's hawkish featured softened noticeably as he looked at his intended across the table. His next words were much gentler.

"Well, we have no real choice in the matter. We are pretty much bein' driven off this land. It was confirmed that the Driessen's were killed while tryin' to escape the Ottawa. So now the crown will take the land back, the land they had sold or rented to all these poor people."

Uncas nodded shortly. That was the way of the Europeans, in his experience.

"We will head west in the next few days. We can't delay any more. To reach Ohio country on foot before winter we should have left weeks ago."

"How long will it take us now, if we leave immediately?" asked Cora.

Nathaniel exhaled slowly.

"The problem will be gettin' Alice to Albany in time for her ship to depart. To reach the Ohio River at least before January, and after we leave her someplace safe, we'll have to leave in the next day or so."

There was a tense silence. Everyone present knew Cora was unhappy with the revelation that Alice would leave their party. Especially since she had heard it from Nathaniel first.

"We can't do both, Cora." Nathaniel looked wary as he said this.

"I understand," she countered, her delicate brows arching. "It seems to me that it is only the winter and snow that is a hindrance. What if…we wintered in Albany?"

Chingachgook stiffened noticeably, and gingerly set down his clay pipe. Uncas glanced at his father. He did not look pleased.

Cora rushed the next few sentences, as if she were trying to get them out before her nerve left her.

"If we were to winter in Albany, we, or rather I, could get Alice safely onto the ship. Nathaniel, we could also register our marriage. And as my father's eldest child, I have to settle some matters, such as contacting his regiment and mailing letters to England and Scotland. Once spring arrives, we can head out west."

"No," Chingachgook's voice was firm. "Uncas and I must reach the camp by _Mechakhokque_ _."_

"By— what, sir?" asked Cora in an stiff voice.

"Means ' _cold that makes trees crack_ ,'' explained Nathaniel, "December."

Uncas looked down, and then at the blonde girl. Alice had not even glanced their way once. Didn't she care that they were discussing her immediate future? While the rest were accustomed to her reticence, it was not something Uncas had ever been comfortable with. She had a voice, like anyone else.

"Fine," replied Cora. "Nathaniel, I leave it to you then, but I must put my sister's safety first. I do not know when… when I will see her again."

Nathaniel reached over the table, and his large, tanned hand grasped hers.

"We will discuss it, then. I see the reason behind it."

Uncas did as well. He also knew that his father would absolutely not delay their trip any longer, for any reason. His weary heart would only rest once his blood son was wed to a Delaware girl, with a child on the way.

"Discuss it then. Uncas and I will leave tomorrow or day after, dark hair."

To an outsider, Chingachgook's words would seem cold. His sons knew that it was not his intention, regardless of his mannerism. He words were never hesitant, or restrained, or careless. No hemming or hawing.

Cora may or may not have understood by now, though her eyes shown with her usual pluck.

"Thank you so much," she murmured, as she drank her tea. Uncas cracked a smile at her spirit.

Nathaniel grunted. "Good. So we're square. Now—"

Alice sighed and turned her head to face the others.

"I shan't be leaving to London, sister."

Uncas stared along with the rest of them. He had not expected to ever hear those words from Alice Munro.

Cora sat up straighter, her eyes lit with cautious hope. "You will come with us, then? To the Ohio Valley?"

It seemed to Uncas a rhetorical question, but evidently the younger sister did not feel the same way.

"No."

"No." Nathaniel repeated. "Alright." His irritation was growing, as his blue eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "So you will not go home, and you will not come with us. What exactly do you think you will do, girl? Reach the ends of the earth and walk off it?"

"Nathaniel," Cora pressed her fingers to her forehead and sighed.

"Cora, not everything can revolve around your sister. We—"

" _Let her speak,_ _"_ Uncas ordered, his voice low, but edged with warning.

The brother's gazes clashed, Nathaniel's slightly mocking. He had seen Uncas glancing her way throughout the last few months.

There was silence for several long seconds.

"Alice?" Cora asked softly.

Alice looked up, her eyes distant.

"I will not be returning to England, and I will not go west. I will go to Albany, and stay there."

"By yourself?" asked Nathaniel quizzically. His temper had eased, as was usual. Nathaniel's temper was never predictable.

"Yes."

Cora shook her head in bafflement, some wayward dark curls falling from her loose chignon.

"I don't understand, sister. Why do you not wish to return to England?"

"I…." Alice seemed overcome with whatever it was that she was feeling. "I cannot be sure that—no, I know that I will not be welcomed. Not anymore."

"Alice, you are making absolutely no sense. Why ever would you be unwelcome?"

Nathaniel gave a sardonic grunt, no doubt thinking what an oddity was his wife's strange little sister.

Alice was silent, and her sister seemed torn between coddling her and ruthlessly questioning her.

"But what will you _do?_ How on earth will you support yourself?" Cora breathed, eyes wide.

Alice shrugged. "I will find a way. I am no longer a child. I will be eighteen in January. I have survived this long, have I not?"

Nathaniel cracked a smile. He could respect that. "That you have, Alice."

She nodded. "When do we leave?"

It was Chingachgook who answered, his keen eyes on Alice.

"Two days," he grunted.

Alice nodded again, looking tired, and stood. "I will retire. Good night to you all."

Uncas watched her leave, and was aware that his brother and father were surreptitiously watching him watch her.

 _What had happened to her?_

* * *

Uncas got his answer the following day.

Alice had finished most of her share of the chores. She had folded all the laundered and dried clothes and separated them into their owners' piles, and was now sewing Uncas's torn travel bag, standing near the door.

Uncas watched her nimble fingers as they worked quickly, the hooked needle glinting jauntily in the dying light of the autumn sky. She had left the door open after sweeping. He hadn't been sure why she wanted to sweep a cabin that they were about to abandon, but he supposed she was glad to do any activity.

"It will be difficult to leave this place," Alice commented timidly, her eyes looking up at his for the first time in days. She swept her long braid past her shoulder.

Uncas nodded.

"I reckon you will be glad to reach Albany," Uncas responded in what he thought was a neutral manner. He gestured for her to sit at the table with him.

She did, paying the travel bag on the table, and assessed him for several long seconds. Her eyes were glistening brightly.

"I am certain you will be just as glad to reach the Delaware camp."

It was an odd comment for the young woman to make. He knew she was alluding to his upcoming nuptials with a Delaware woman. Her eyes were saddened, and Uncas craved to hold her in his arms one last time.

"You have an affection for me."

Uncas stared at her, taken aback. He nodded after several moments. She had to know, but the _Yengeese_ had a peculiar habit of saying everything out loud, even after there was a confirmation.

"Then why did you act as if there was anything possible between us? When you knew you were to wed one of your own race?"

"I have no choice in who I wed," Uncas said in a low voice.

Alice nodded, "I understand. If my father were still alive, I would marry a man of his choosing. It is the prerogative of our elders."

Uncas said nothing. She was in a strange mood, and was almost never this chatty. Though perhaps being alone in the cabin as a compelling enough force- Cora and Nathaniel had gone to the wharf, and Chingachgook had said something vague about checking the traps in the forest.

It was also a mouthful coming from her since she had been so appalled at what they had shared.

"Uncas," Alice whispered, bowing her head. "I am always afraid. I am afraid of going to Albany, and being alone. I am afraid of the future. I am afraid of…. of never seeing you again."

Her eyes when she looked up were were so vulnerable, so distressed, so _lost,_ that Uncas felt his heart clench painfully. Since the moment he had met her, this frail _Yengeese_ maiden, he had wanted to protect her. He had never been good with words, always allowing Nathaniel to speak for their family unit; and a true warrior and man did not have to rely on phrases and gesticulation.

There was so much he wanted to say. If she asked him, he would not deny her. His father would have to understand. But what could he do when such a thing seemed inconceivable, even to the both of them? When she was wracked with so much doubt?

Before he could express anything, his ears picked up the sound of someone, or rather two people, sprinting quickly up the path.

Uncas was almost certain it was his brother and Cora, but he stood up instantly, grasped his musket, and went towards the door.

He met his brother and Cora midway.

Uncas lowered his rifle, his eyes straining a bit with from the switch from indoor to out.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noting how tense the others were.

Cora ignored him, her face fiercer than he had ever seen it. Her features seemed shadowed, though he supposed it was due to the waning sunlight of the autumn.

"Trouble?" he asked his brother cautiously in their language as the woman swept past him, calling out Alice's name loudly.

"Apparently," Nathaniel muttered, gritting his teeth. The men followed suit, stepping inside the cabin and closing the door.

Uncas went to stack another log into the hearth. His misgivings grew as he took in Alice's baffled expression, and Cora's agitation.

"I think it's time you told us the truth, sister," Cora whispered, her face as white and pale as new fallen snow. In fact, she looked positively sickened.

"Truth?" Alice blinked, looking at the others.

"We were just at the wharf, Alice," Nathaniel's voice was more measured and calm, "and we asked around to see if anyone had seen you there. Since you have been mighty sneaky as of late."

Alice positively blanched. Her hands shook and she words seemed to die in her throat.

"S-so?"

"When, Alice?" Cora asked, tears beginning to run down her face. "It was not— _force_ — was it?"

Uncas was beginning to feel alarmed. "What happened?" he urged, the thought of Alice having been hurt by someone causing a rush of adrenaline. "Brother, what is it?"

Now Alice did indeed look sick. She began to shake so badly that her teeth chattered.

"I am sorry… Cora, I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me."

"Is that why you said your family will not welcome you in England?" Nathaniel's voice was surprisingly gentle, even for him.

Uncas thunked his musket down on the ground in a rare spurt of temper.

"Alice. What happened? Did someone hurt you?" Uncas pressed, his eyes scanning her moon-pale skin, skin that was even now growing paler by the second.

"Was it force?" Nathaniel repeated, laying a hand on her shaking shoulder.

Uncas looked at his brother quickly, since Alice would not look at him. _What?_ _—_

"No. No, it was not."

"Alice— so it is indeed true, sister?"

The blonde nodded.

"I am pregnant," she whispered.

Uncas felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. The air completely left his body.

"Do you know who the father is?" Nathaniel continued.

Cora's eyes flashed dangerously, even through her tears.

"Nathaniel Poe!" she shouted, "Do not insinuate that my sister is a—"

"I have only lain with one man," Alice cried, "I know who it is, but— he—."

Alice suddenly stood, the same dazed expression on her face as she had worn during her terrible ordeal. It was a look suffused in utter blankness. She shook everyone's hands off and walked and stumbled towards the door. She looked almost as a blind woman walking.

"I will sleep tonight in the hayloft," she mumbled, her eyes faraway. "We will speak…tomorrow."

"Alice! Alice!" called Cora plaintively, sobbing all the harder.

"Wait," commanded Uncas, putting the full weight of his feelings into the word. "I will speak to her."

"No, Uncas," Cora wailed, her hands on her face, Nathaniel rubbing her back soothingly. "I must be the one to speak to her. She must tell me who is responsible! When I find out the name of that scoundrel I will—"

"I fathered her child."

For several long seconds, everything seemed to be suspended in motion. As if time itself had frozen.

Nathaniel's eyes widened in astonishment. For once in his life, his brother seemed beyond words.

Cora, meanwhile looked at him with complete incomprehension. "You… what do you mean?"

Uncas looked past them, needing to speak to Alice. Now he understood her bizarre behavior these last few weeks. She must have been so frightened. He had been told that _Yengeese_ women were held to very strict codes of conduct, that any lapses were subject to public shame.

"I said, I fathered her child."

Cora only gaped at, her mouth hanging open as if it had been unhinged. "You did this? _You_ dishonored my sister in such a vile manner?"

The paleness of her face was rapidly coloring as anger began to overtake her.

"You-you…" Cora was beside herself, apparently unable to even think of a expletive that sufficiently described him.

She turned to Nathaniel. "Is this would I would be marrying into? Seducers of innocent young ladies?"

Nathaniel put his hands up in a passive gesture, shaking his head. "Cora, I had no idea. What ever my brother does—"

"Is not your concern? Because this concerns my young sister. Your brother put a bastard into her belly."

She stalked towards the door. "I do not wish to speak to either of you again. I will accompany Alice to Albany and we will both stay there until I think of what to do—"

Uncas raised his voice, "No. I will speak to her and _I_ will care for her."

"Shut your mouth, Uncas! You are making this worse!" Nathaniel snarled at his younger brother in their mother language, face contorted with rage; rage at the thought of his love abandoning him, at the thought of Alice being seduced.

He stalked towards his younger brother and made a move as if to shove him. Their argument propelled them outside and all three spilled out into the milky twilight.

Cora turned around, hissing in exasperation, and headed to the barn.

Uncas clenched his jaw, pushing Nathaniel's hand off his arm.

"What has happened?"

A new voice interrupted them all. Chingachgook. The men were instantly silenced, but for vastly different reasons. Their father's eyes were alert as he took them all in— he could hardly have failed to notice Cora's anger and her striding quickly to the barn, slamming it with force.

Uncas knew now that things had been altered drastically, irrevocably. There was a very real possibility that his father would disown him. In a few short months, he had disobeyed almost every important mandate set by his father. _You must only marry one of our own. Stay away from Yengeese. Our blood must not be diluted. Do not forget your responsibility to our tribe. Behave honorably towards women._

"Either you tell him or I will, Uncas," Nathaniel snapped.

"Tell me what?" Chingachgook's voice was one that would tolerate no dissemblance. His eyes were fixed on his younger son.

Yes, Uncas knew that he had not acted as a warrior should, but one thing he would not do is go against his conscience in a matter such as his. He would not abandon her, or allow her to run away from this.

He faced his father squarely, scrutinizing him for a few seconds before speaking.

"Alice. She is carrying my child."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Chingachgook stared at Uncas for several long moments. He said nothing, and did not even blink.

Uncas swallowed nervously.

"Father, did you hear what I said? Alice is—"

"I heard."

Chingachgook took a step towards his son, and then stopped. He shook his head, then glanced at Nathaniel as if seeking confirmation. Nathaniel nodded grimly, refusing to look at his brother.

Uncas scanned his father's familiar features that were now so racked with tension.

"You were the one responsible for this? You spilled your seed into that pale faced Yengeese girl?"

Uncas felt a prickle of dread begin to grow under his skin. Hearing it in their language made it seem so much worse. It was also not in his father's character to persist in questioning once the truth had been established, which by itself was unnerving.

"Father, I—"

"You knew she was expecting?" Nathaniel interrupted his brother, his brows arching in surprise.

Chingachgook nodded curtly. "What I did not expect was my blood son to have been the one to have behaved so basely."

Uncas flinched.

"Father, I know you must think the worst of me. That my actions were thoughtless."

"Thoughtless," Chingachgook's eyes slitted, his voice low with scorn, "is too soft a word. What you have done is shameful and inexcusable."

Uncas and Nathaniel stood frozen, in the grip of their father's mounting ire.

His eyes cut to Nathaniel. "You. What does the dark one have to say?"

The door of the barn slammed open as if on cue and Cora stormed out, jaw quaking in fury and helplessness. She made her way to the cabin door, her head held high.

"Alice will not speak to me. I will gather our things, and she and I will leave in the morning. Do _not_ address me, Nathaniel Poe. I am absolutely vexed with you."

She flung the door aside and marched in, Nathaniel at her heels.

Uncas could hear them bickering as the door slowly swung back shut, leaving him alone outside with his sire.

Chingachgook shook his head in disdain. "My sons," he muttered, his eyes glittering with the same mixture of contempt and anger.

"What will you do now?" he asked after a pause.

Uncas glanced up, "Father…."

The word hung between them, and the air was thick with pain and disappointment. Uncas wanted his father to understand that he had never wanted to disappoint him, that he would have been proud to take his father's chosen path for him, that he honored their people. Now, these carefully laid plans had been torn asunder by a perpetually fragile, sad-eyed English girl, and this new unexpected revelation.

"Father. I cannot go with you to the Delaware camp. I cannot marry one of their women."

He watched in misery as his father's stiff posture sagged. From his shoulders to the proud lines of his spine, to his mouth, his body expressed what a serious blow this was to the older man. For twenty-five years, he had placed all his trust and hope for the future on his only blood related son's shoulders. From the eradication of his tribe, to the loss of his wife to white man's sickness, he had still held onto the certainty that Uncas would be the one to keep the line strong.

Chingachgook would no longer meet his eyes. "Uncas. You made your choice. You will go down a path that I will not sanction. The path you are taking will lead to the corruption of our bloodline."

Chingachgook stepped past his younger son, his expression barren of any emotion. "I will pack my belongings and go west. You take your _Yengeese_ woman and go wherever you wish."

And just like that, Uncas felt his father's paternal bond to him sever. _He made me a stranger so quickly._

"She is carrying your grandchild," he called to his father as the man was striding inside.

His voice had drifted into the cabin, and Cora and Nathaniel stopped their argument to stare at him. He hadn't realized he had spoken in English. Chingachgook paused at these words, but Uncas could delay no longer. He needed to speak to Alice.

As he was turning, his eyes made contact with Cora's angry countenance, and he met her gaze squarely. His allowed his eyes communicate his thoughts. She thought she could spirit Alice away from him. _Think again._

Once in the shadowed, dank hayloft, it was several minutes before Uncas could coax Alice down. His instinct told him not to touch or embrace her as she stood there, head bowed, wringing her fingers in a nervous gesture. A stalk of parched hay clung stubbornly to her hair and Uncas gently brushed it off. Alice tensed at this merest brush of his hand.

"Come into the cabin. Eat something," he requested. His hands literally ached to touch her, but he needed to make sure she was fed and warm. She was far too thin, her cheekbones more prominent than when he had first met her, when her face was more rounded and healthy.

"Come," he repeated, smiling slightly, though his mind was fraught with worry.

She looked up, her face worn. "Are you angry at me?" she whispered haltingly.

Uncas felt his gut clench painfully at her self-reproach. Before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them and drew her fully into his embrace. He absorbed her trembling, her fear, her despair.

"No," he replied with conviction, "Never."

* * *

Night had fallen, and Alice sat outside by a flickering bonfire, it's lambent flames casting everyone's face into an orange shade.

The men were roasting meat on a spit, Cora beside Nathaniel (having been shrugged off by Alice), yet she still kept a steady, worried vigil over her younger sister.

"Where is your father?" asked Alice hesitantly.

The men paused.

"He decided to head west to winter with the Delaware. Albany is not really to his liking." Nathaniel smirked at Alice, turning the meat carefully. As usual, Alice had no notion as to whether he was mocking her.

I _am not really to his liking._

"Are you joining him, Uncas?" she turned her questioning to the younger brother instead.

Uncas looked up, seemingly perplexed by the question.

"Let's eat," said Nathaniel quickly.

For the next several minutes, the quartet were thus occupied. Alice flicked her gaze towards Cora, who was uncommonly quiet. Whenever Cora made a gesture as if wanting to speak to Alice directly, Nathaniel would nudge her and mutter. Alice knew they had argued, but they seemed to be at an impasse— and it related to her, Alice knew. And her… _condition._ It appeared they had agreed to not question her. There was tension in the air, however. Nathaniel kept a forced civility with Uncas, and Cora would not address him directly.

Alice picked at the meat disinterestedly. She was far too mentally and physically drained to do much else.

"Eat, Alice," Uncas mandated across from her.

"I have eaten my fill."

"You took four bites."

Alice sighed. He was counting her bites? He did not understand, just eating four small bites of this flavorless meat was a definite improvement for her. She had scarcely kept any other food down for weeks. Any more, and she would humiliate herself by regurgitating her stomach's contents. She had even vomited a sip of water the day before.

"This is all I can manage at the moment. If I force myself, I will be ill."

Cora's face was lit with sympathy and concern. "Yes, I have been told the first few months are very difficult."

Alice set aside her meal. She did _not_ wish to discuss that openly.

"Why do you not drink your tea?"

"What tea?" Alice muttered.

"I found it in the barn. A little packet."

Alice winced. "Oh, that… well, that is not precisely meant for—er— consumption."

Cora was confused. "They are tea leaves, are they not?"

"No. Yes. I do not know." Alice sighed, "I suppose they _are_ tea leaves. Nell gave them to me."

Nathaniel looked baffled. "Who's Nell?"

"I went to town when I began to suspect about my— my— condition. She is a midwife of sorts. Nell examined me and confirmed it. I… did not take the news very well."

Alice did not want to look at Uncas, who was listening intently. Instead she glanced at Nathaniel, and his eyes were kind.

"So, she gave you tea to make you feel better?"

"In a matter of speaking."

Alice wanted to forget about the entire thing, but Cora and Nathaniel continued pressing her.

She exhaled softly and shook her head.

"Some of the leaves were to ease my nausea. The others… she said… she gave them to me so things could go back to the way they were before. She said the tea would end the source of my troubles. "

A hush fell over the group. Uncas leaned forward, but Cora beat him to it.

"Alice," she breathed, "did you—"

"No. I did not. Drinking the tea would have caused me to bleed. But too much is dangerous, she said. I thought about it. I decided against it." Alice shrugged in a blasé manner.

She did not tell them her fear and her mindless panic. She did not tell them that she had in fact brewed the concoction, by herself, in a fit of despair. That she had brought the finished product to her lips, sipped, then immediately spit it out, horrified. She had drained the mug onto the grass.

Her stomach turned suddenly. Stifling a groan, Alice stood hastily.

"What's wrong?" asked Uncas immediately.

"Sick," was all she said before she turned to get as far away as possible. She had passed the tree line in a sprint before she fell to her knees. She retched everything she had just eaten, though admittedly it was not much.

She felt Uncas's strong hands on her hair, on her back. His touch was unbearably gentle.

She continued heaving for several seconds, after her belly had emptied itself. She cringed in embarrassment as Uncas helped her up. Catching his eye, Uncas's face was wracked with concern. His face was itself was even darker in the night.

"Better?" he asked, drawing her close. Alice nodded languidly, leaning against his frame. He always smelled of smoke and pine trees.

Back in the clearing, Alice blinked confusedly. Cora and Nathaniel were gone, presumedly inside the cabin, and the grass had been cleared of the spit and food.

"Let's speak, Alice. Of what will happen."

Alice sat stiffly beside him on the grass, waiting for him to speak. His chiseled features were very serious.

"Come with me. I will care for you and our child."

Alice gaped. He certainly did not beat about the bush.

"I… had wanted to go to Albany."

"To do what?" he countered, his black eyes intense.

"Well, I had not thought about it that much." Alice's voice trailed, and she looked at him swiftly, expecting a mocking response. Only he didn't. He nodded and urged her with his eyes to continue. How unlike his brother, her sister, and his own father.

"What do you think you would do?"

Alice licked her dry lips. She tasted blood.

"I am well-educated. I could be a school teacher. Or even just a seamstress. I would do anything that was honest to support myself and… and the baby."

Had she said those words aloud? She had not thought of it as a baby once so far.

Uncas's stern mouth softened, and he reached towards her, hand outstretched, planting a large square palm lightly on her belly.

Alice's breath hitched. His touch was a soothing balm to her. She could _feel_ what he did at that moment; for her and the child. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep them safe.

"Come with me."

Alice looked up, her heart and her fears in her eyes.

"Where will we go? What I mean is, if I were to accompany you. You are a trapper. I would want a home. A roof. For the child."

Uncas nodded, his hair irradiated by the glow of the firelight.

"I will give you all of that. Anything you ask."

Alice felt herself begin to lean closer to him. She had only thought of herself and the baby in the last several days. She had told herself that she would be alone. That she would bear her shame in silence and penitence.

Alice still resisted, however. They were so different. How could they?…

Uncas studied her face intensely.

"We can try the Hudson Valley. Or Albany until the child is born."

"You have no cabin or your own? No land? Where will we live?"

Uncas shook his head. "I have silver. It will be enough for us to buy land. I can start building come spring— once we have chosen a place."

Alice began to warm to the idea, especially as he constantly used the word "we." He would listen to her, to her thoughts and opinions. But what would they be? Man and wife?

"If…" Alice took a deep breath. "If we were to live together, far from here, what will happen once the child comes?"

Uncas tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Will we act as if we are married?"

Uncas stared. "I would your husband. You would be my wife."

Alice was baffled. "We would be wed? How? By whom?"

It was too much, Alice's head was spinning. She had not even thought of it, of the implication of them sharing a cabin meant they would be bound together.

The old fears reared up from the corner of her mind.

"But Uncas, we are so different. And we will always be. What if I cannot…" her voice died in her throat.

Uncas drew her closer, the intensity of his eyes causing a lurch of desire in her belly. She looked down, berating herself for her wantonness.

"I will teach you everything. You will lack for nothing. Believe me."

Alice leaned closer, unwittingly, being drawn to him now as she had since she had first met him. As their lips drew nearer, Alice whispered that she would.

* * *

The next day dawned cloudy as the four made their way to the wharf; it was both a final gesture of solidarity to spend a few more carefree hours together in this place before their inevitable separation, and a matter of practicality as both parties needed to purchase supplies.

For his part, Uncas advised Alice that she should don trousers, boots, and a hat on their journey. It seemed a perfectly rational suggestion, as an Indian traveling with a white woman would cause too much speculation and potential confrontations. Alice had been aghast at the thought and he had had to convince her.

" _Ladies do not—" she had started to exclaim, scandalized._

" _I know," he had said firmly. "But you need to blend in more."_

 _Lady or not._

"Where are you headed, Uncas?" asked Nathaniel, tossing him a smile, as they searched for buckskin. "Any ideas?"

Uncas grunted. "A few. Need to get her someplace safe before long."

 _Safe_ was a subjective word. They were in the middle of a war, and their contrasting skin colors attracted too much attention. Not to mention when her pregnancy would start to show.

"Congratulations on your impendin' fatherhood, little brother," Nathaniel thumped him on the back, "I think with all the commotion, I forgot to say that."

Uncas granted his older brother a rare, warm smile.

"How's Cora taking it?"

Nathaniel smirked. "One day at a time. I talked to her."

"Uncas," Nathaniel continued, his smile turning down a notch, "Let me take her to Albany with Cora. At least until the baby is born. It's just safer."

Uncas said nothing, his eyes scanning his surroundings for Alice. He finally found her enthusiastically looking at a few worn dresses being sold by a heavyset older woman. Alice looked so happy at the thought of having clean clothes. He had instructed her to buy one dress and several undergarments. It would be a lot to carry.

"Brother," Uncas replied, "buy her some trousers in her size. Smallest ones, I reckon. We have to move on soon. Also a hat, the funny looking ones the white men wear, with the three points. And boots."

"Boots are expensive."

Uncas shrugged. "I gave you silver."

Nathaniel slanted him a mocking look, but did as he was told.

There was one more thing Uncas had to do, and he began to walk towards a tall, string bean of a white man. One more thing, and he could go.

There _was_ in fact an idea forming in his head, but it didn't involve Albany, and it didn't involve going west.

Uncas smiled, sending a quick prayer to _Mannitto._

When they finished their shopping, both pairs headed out into the forest. They would be together for a day or so, camping out at night, and then they would split up.

At least Cora had ceased crying.

"Ready?" he whispered to the blonde by his side, her loose hair swaying in the autumn breeze.

She nodded.

"I am ready."

* * *

Hope you all like is so far, and thank you for all the wonderful reviews! A few thoughts:

I am trying to experiment with different writing styles, so I can offer more steady updates in exchange for fluctuating… whatever this is.

Hope you all don't hate Chingachgook now. Imagine the shock if it were you.

Loves scenes _may_ be coming up, and I would be going for sensual versus explicit.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

"Uncas, it is so very warm. I feel I will dissolve in this heat."

Uncas glanced at her at her, his expression placid. They were currently taking their first afternoon break on their trek north. The early autumn season had turned unusually sweltering. An "Indian summer," it was called.

It was their third day together since separating from Cora and Nathaniel. Cora had taken the separation hard, embracing her younger sister and voicing her nervousness. Alice had had to tell her, over and over, that Uncas would care for her, that this was her own decision. Alice had her own doubts, but told herself that this was the better option, rather than facing censure and familiar faces in Albany and London.

"Tomorrow we will reach Big Moose Lake. You can bathe there."

Alice unwittingly giggled. _Big Moose?_

He gave her a small smile in return, then turned back to his task. He was chiseling a spearpoint from a flaky rock for hunting, since he was trying to conserve his powder. They were taking a break, and both sat on the ground. Uncas had said they were north of Albany by now. The sun was flashing down unforgivably.

Alice bit back a groan of dismay. She was absolutely _filthy_ , and had not bathed in over a week. Her dress, ill-fitting from the start and having belonged to a chambermaid at the fort, was in shockingly bad condition. The hem was torn and had turned permanently brown. She could bear it no longer— she _must_ bathe, wash her rag of a dress, and don her new clothing. She had purchased a simple but lovely blue cotton dress, a new shift, and a petticoat.

Uncas was still occupied with the task at hand, head bent, when his patient voice broke through her musings.

"If you bathe now, Alice, you would have to put on the breeches and shirt, not the dress."

Alice balked. Her sensibilities were appalled at the notion of donning a man's attire. She thought it over for several minutes. On the one hand, it was shockingly irregular and improper. She mustn't forget who she was and where she came from. On the other hand….

Alice looked down at her dirty, sun-browned fingers. She studied her grimy nails. Her governess would have boxed her ears had she been present to see the state of her now. She already looked a fright. She had also stopped wearing her stays, as the pressure on her bosom was too painful. And… Alice sighed internally… her belly and bosom had started to swell. Not much, but it was a hint of the months to come.

With all of this, why not wear trousers?

"Alright," Alice nodded heartily. "I will do it. Now, lead us to the stream, sir."

Uncas cocked a black brow at her use of the word "sir," but either way nodded gamely. He started to pack up their belongings.

A short while later, Alice gazed rapturously at the bubbling brook that ran quickly by them. There was a more secluded spot that Uncas pointed out to her, that would give her privacy. He left her there with a strict warning not to wander out, to call out if anything happened, and not to take too much time. With a short, intense, and completely surprising kiss on her lips, Uncas turned to go secure the perimeter of the stream, leaving a stunned Alice feeling a bit shaken at his affection.

Alice felt a tremor course through at the unexpected contact. They had kissed before, but this time had felt different. She touched her fingertips to her lips lightly.

Minutes later, Alice was immersed in the water, scrubbing the dirt and grime from her travels. She unwrapped a bar of rough soap from it's wax packaging and proceeded to rinse and lather her hair. It was beyond blissful. The water was chilly, but bearable. Alice wanted to spend the rest of the day frolicking, but knew they were pressed for time.

After several minutes, Alice was ready to come out of the water. She glanced at the grass, and realized she had dropped her haversack on the ground beyond her reach after taking out the soap. She would have to emerge nude if she wanted to grab it herself, something she refused to do.

Alice cursed her lack of foresight. Should she call his name? That would be so crass. She told herself she must wait then, and wait she did, for several more minutes, until the anxiety began to fray her nerves. What if something happened? What if he was gone?

"Uncas," she called out weakly, feeling herself begin to hyperventilate. Within seconds, her companion emerged from the thicket, his eyes ever watchful. Alice almost cried in relief.

Uncas approached her, tactfully keeping his eyes only on her face. Alice kept her arms crossed on her chest, though only her shoulders were visible.

"Need anything?" Uncas asked lightly, his brows arched. Alice sank even deeper in, her knees cutting into some stones on the bottom of the stream.

"I need something to cover myself with," she mumbled, "Could you bring me my deer hide and… and my sack?"

Uncas nodded. Within moments he returned with a hide blanket made of soft deerskin. He held it open in front of her, expectantly.

Alice was absolutely aghast. Surely he did not intend for her to emerge from the water in front of him, nude and drenched as she was?

"The hide will get wet, and we have no time to dry it."

Alice could see the logic to that, but it was still so… so… obscene. Taking a deep breath, and making sure Uncas was looking away, Alice bolted up from the water, and Uncas wrapped the hide around her almost as quickly.

Alice shivered as she wrapped herself more securely. Uncas rubbed her arms slowly, tenderly, trying to render them warm. _Warmth._ She remembered the caves, and how his strong body had warmed her. She leaned closer to him, heart pounding at her daring, and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Alice squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation— she could feel the lines of his body, and so could he, she knew. Craning her neck up slowly, their eyes locked. She saw the heat pooling in those dark depths. Alice knew in that moment that she would not be able to put up any resistance to anything, nor did she want to.

As if awakening from a dream, he blinked and stepped back. "Going to get dressed?" he asked mildly, picking up her sack and handing it to her. Alice nodded, her face still burning.

 _What is wrong with me?_

* * *

Though Uncas did everything he possibly could to make her comfortable, Alice was fatigued and unhappy. Her back ached constantly, and though she no longer suffered the extreme nausea— thanks in part to the peppermint tea Uncas brewed for her daily— Alice was miserable with her unrelenting tiredness, as well as sharp headaches.

She had started to take out much of her frustration on Uncas, spurred on by his apparent unending patience. For the first few days, Alice greatly enjoyed the exercise and scenery, as well as the fact that she was able to bathe at least every other day. Wearing trousers was actually quite liberating… since there was nobody around to see her but Uncas.

She was tired now, and aching, and bad-tempered; Uncas had given her a vague explanation about seeking out a friend who would help them get settled for the winter, but this did nothing to quell her fears. She knew he was not keeping any information from her, rather it was his natural reserve.

"Do you know where he is?" Alice had asked in a voice that had sounded, to her, as tight as a wound up coil.

"No," Uncas had responded with maddening equanimity, "but I know where he might be."

 _Wonderful._

Might.

Might.

 _Might._ Alice spent hours and then the following day turning over that word in her mind, growing more and more bitter. There had been no _mights_ in her life before crossing the Atlantic. Everything in her life had been planned and safe.

It was late that night at their camp ground, when a nervous Alice finally broke her silence.

"Try to sleep," Uncas said in his low, deep voice. In the poor light his face looked the color of warm caramel.

"I cannot," was her retort, coming out as sharp as the cut of a blade. When he had squatted by the fire earlier, she had grabbed her hides and circled around it, putting the flames between them.

They stared at each other, and Alice's heart pounded with resentment, nerves, and worry.

"What is it?" His voice floated to her.

Alice could not hold in the current of angry words.

"I am dressed as a man, as a _farmer._ I am with child out of wedlock. I am galloping about the forest with no discernible destination. I want us to be someplace _safe!_ I want to sleep on clean linen and not worry about…. about whether or not I will be giving birth on the ground in a forest."

Uncas, who had been listening intently, suddenly rose to his feet and crossed the few feet to where Alice lay curled up in hides. She glanced up— his strong jaw and straight nose shone in the light of the fire. His eyes were more serious than she had ever seen them. She felt slightly intimidated. _Is he angry? Has he changed his mind about me?_ Alice fought the sickening dread that was pooling in her belly. She envisioned herself, pregnant and alone.

Uncas sat beside her, and contemplated the sparks of the flames for a few minutes. He neither spoke not looked at her, and again assumed that stance of natural stillness that he and his family all shared.

"I know this is difficult for you."

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat. He had no idea. How could he? The life she had known was gone forever. However, she felt the bitterness receding as mental exhaustion took it's place.

Uncas moved briskly and lay on the ground beside her, causing Alice to burrow deeper into the blanket until only her large eyes were visible. Undaunted, Uncas reached over and gently grasped her small hand in his. Alice shivered at the contact. His skin was so rough and brawny. It always caused such a burning yet sweet aching in her belly, which was why Alice tried to avoid contact with his skin.

Tugging her hand, he placed her palm and fingers lightly over his chest. She felt the strong beating of his heart, and Uncas continued to steadily hold her gaze.

"It will only be a bit longer. We will be someplace safe. You will not give birth in the woods. That's months away."

Alice felt the long fingers of his other hand, that was not grasping hers, stroke their way lightly across her still (mostly) flat belly. She trembled at this.

Was he trying to ascertain that she was real, that this was real? Alice had sometimes felt that in the last few months. She would be occupied with something, some task or chore, and then all of a sudden the reality would come crashing down upon her, leaving her blinking in confusion, looking around at the others and her surroundings. Sometimes she would even pinch herself as hard as she could. _Is this real?_ she would ask, and felt disoriented for hours, unable to connect with the world she now found herself in.

Nevertheless, she wanted more than easy words. She wanted answers.

"Where are we going?"

"To find a friend."

"Which friend?"

"Jack Winthrop."

Alice tilted her head, racking her memory. The name sounded so familiar—

It came to her in a sudden burst of clarity.

"The captain of the militia?" she asked incredulously. _The deserter,_ she whispered mentally.

Uncas nodded stoutly. Alice was nonplussed; where would they find him, why would he help? How?

Uncas urged Alice to try to sleep. She resisted his attempts, laying stiffly next to him, only relaxing and falling slowly to sleep when he started to stroke her braid. The last thing she felt was his rough, warm lips pressed against her forehead.

* * *

Alice woke up to the feeling that she was underwater. Not literally, but she felt so sluggish and bone-weary that it was several moments before she could even open her eyes.

She sensed Uncas crouch by her, but she burrowed deeper with a sleepy murmur.

"We have to break camp, Alice."

"Tired," she mumbled.

He checked her pulse and temperature. "Do you feel sick again?"

"No." Alice yawned and sank her head into the dent in her hide blanket.

"It's midmorning. I didn't want to wake you, but now that you're up we need to leave soon." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and stood quickly. "Hungry?"

Alice turned and started to unravel herself from her cocoon of hides. She disliked protesting so much, but she truly wished to rest longer. Given that it was not possible, Alice forced her eyes to remain open as she helped him pack up the camp.

Uncas passed her a pouch that was filled with a variety of nuts and dried fruit. Alice ate silently, savoring the woody and tangy flavor. She knew these tiny kernels would fill them both for several hours.

"Ready?" Uncas asked his usual query minutes later.

Alice, feeling much more invigorated now, nodded and gave him a small, hesitant smile. She regretted her foolish outburst from the night before, but he seemed none the worse for wear.

For the next several hours they walked, mostly silently, and Alice found comfort in this where as before it would have made her nervous.

She welcomed the long lulls between their conversations, as she could reflect on her troubling thoughts. Why was she so befuddled by Uncas's presence? Just his mere nearness made all the thoughts fly from her head. She felt as she had once— and the only time— when she had drank too much sherry, and suddenly everything was spinning, spinning, spinning….

She didn't fall then, but would she now? Alice furrowed her brow delicately, thumbing a rivulet of sweat that was meandering it's way down the side of her head. Blasted tricorn hat was so warm. Alice shook her legs experimentally, trying now to work her thoughts away from such troubling speculation.

Hours later, after two breaks and freshening up at a stream, Uncas halted. The sunlight cascaded through the leaves, leaving pockets of bright light above them.

"We are nearby a town called Rensselaerville. Jack and Ian should be here, at least that was the plan when they left William Henry."

 _Deserted. Deserted crown law and left us to fend for ourselves._ Alice could not help but think that her father would be horrified at her life now, and the company she was keeping.

"Alright," Alice sighed, "what do we do now?"

Uncas quirked his mouth up at her world-weary voice, and pressed his hand around the back of her neck, rubbing the tension out. Alice closed her eyes with another sigh.

Uncas's voice was gentle. "Let's go. Ian's cabin."

The walk through the thicket really was brief. Alice craned her neck up and stared at the bright sky as she walked, noting the change in colors. From greens to orange. What a strange and beautiful land.

Before long they came to a small farm, rustic and destitute even by the measures of this wild frontier. Alice felt anxiety grip her anew.

Uncas saw him first, predictably. Jack Winthrop was still wearing the shabby outfit of a militia captain. He was splitting wood, completely engrossed in his task. Alice spotted his hat on the ground.

"Jack!" called Uncas, striding forward. He passed a batch of wilting daffodils.

Jack straightened immediately, his posture tense, and relaxed when he saw the visitor.

"Uncas!" Jack said warmly, his face splitting into a smile. He embraced the tall Mohican man with an easy familiarity that spoke volumes of their friendship. Jack looked at Alice with a ready smile.

"Hello, boy."

Alice blinked, then glanced down at her linen breeches, waistcoat, and shirt. She could only glance back up, mute and embarrassed.

Jack cocked a brow, then shared a look with Uncas, who shrugged.

"Need a place to winter with my wife. Then I reckon I will need to buy some land. Build a cabin."

Jack nodded, mopping his brow and leaning against his heavy ax. "Right by me. I'll be staying with Ian and Beth here until it's safe, then will head to Albany. Reckon you could winter up at mine. Where is your woman?"

Uncas cut his eyes and looked Alice square in the eye, and Alice felt her breath hitch.

Jack Winthrop could only gape, dumbstruck. He spun to look at Uncas.

" _This_ is your wife?"

Alice blushed deeply, both at the words and his unapologetic incredulousness. She could only imagine what his thoughts were. Alice decided to ignore the implication of the word _wife_ , favoring embarrassment over her attire, and the fact that she was a white woman traveling with an Indian.

"Yes," Uncas replied, unruffled.

There was an awkward silence.

"Aren't you the colonel's younger daughter?" asked Jack carefully, eyeing her.

Alice nodded mutely, red faced.

Jack grunted, mystified. "Well, reckon you're made of sterner stuff to have survived this long. Sorry about your pa. Come on in, get some rest and a warm meal."

Alice gave a hesitant smile, relaxing her guard. The run-down little cabin was starting to look somewhat nicer now.

* * *

I'm trying to keep my chapters at around 1k words to update faster, and as you can see it's not working. Hope you are all enjoying the story so far. Many thanks for the reviews! They mean so much :)


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

* * *

Ian MacFadyen and his wife Beth turned out to be hospitable hosts. Their small, rustic cabin by the river had it's own quaintness— and a wash basin. It was something, in the very least. Alice watched the activity carefully, for whenever she reached her own destination with Uncas. He would surely need assistance, and Alice was determined to pull her own weight. Alice learned fairly quickly how to cook more than just stew, though she struggled with other tasks and tired easily. She did know her embroidery and was a quick seamstress. She impressed the mistress of the house with being able to mend any cloth item and make shirts for the men.

Beth seemed to find the thought of Uncas and Alice together quite odd. Alice would often find Beth eyeing them both with barely concealed speculation— not that Alice blamed her, mind you. She only thought the older woman should have better manners than to openly ogle someone. Though Alice supposed the entire point was that Beth was not very well-mannered, and that it was her prerogative to act however she saw fit to act in her own home.

Ian was gruff, but not altogether unfriendly. Alice struggled to describe him mentally. He barely glanced at her or even his wife. While Beth would prattle during the evenings, Ian would merely grunt in response. She could feel his affection for her, however. It was strange.

Jack was the friendliest of the cabin trio. His smile was always ready, and he would tip his hat with a grin whenever he saw her. Sometimes she had to force herself to remember that he had committed treason against her father and the British crown. It was a difficult thing to reconcile herself with.

One night the subject had been broached, though not comfortably in any sense of the word.

" _When do you think you will go to Albany, Mr. Winthrop?" Alice asked, seated comfortably by the fire._

 _Jack shrugged and replied carefully, "Don't know. Figure I'd lay low for now, maybe head to Albany when the weather gets warm. See how things are, if I'll be safe. I thought I could head to Fort George and see Colonel Phipps. I've known him for years."_

" _I would not recommend it, sir." Alice said this with a hint of tartness._

" _Why not?" Jack was amused._

" _Why, because I watched my father sign your death warrant, sir." Alice voice and tone were breezy. "Along with Nathaniel's. I would not presume to give you orders, sir, but entering a British fort would not be wise. Colonel Phipps knew my father from when they were soldiers together over twenty years ago."_

 _The silence after this exchange had been palpable. Alice had spoken very politely but it seemed clear that she disapproved of his actions. From across the table, Uncas frowned, his black brows connecting. He had not liked Alice's archness, apparently._

 _Alice had glanced down at the table. It was just so difficult for her, the memory of her father's horrid death and the circumstances surrounding it. She had kept quiet for the rest of the evening._

So it was that Alice felt content but with a faint, nagging sort of unease, or sense of misplacement, rather. The couple were kind in their own way, but Ian was distant, and Beth turned out to be rather nosey. They could barely read and Beth seemed to think of nothing but nonsense daily. Gossip and back-fence talk.

Alice wanted to leave. It was unfortunate that she was forced to submit to the authority of the realm of men. Couldn't be helped, Alice thought, as the days dragged on and on.

* * *

One day, a week or so after arriving, Alice was gathering some of the apples to harvest, watching the men sowing the winter wheat. They looked so different in the autumnal sunlight. Now that it had at last started to feel chilly, Alice wore a coarse shawl most days. The men, however, were shirtless as they worked. Ian was a trifle short, and his eyes were morose and serious. Jack whistled as he labored, the sun lighting up his red-blonde hair. Uncas smiled at his friend, saying something that caused Jack to chuckle. Alice's eyes were drawn to Uncas, whom, she could not help but notice, was a very impressive figure in the sunlight— strong and handsome. He was well made, slender but built in a most admirable manner.

"Good looking lad."

Alice turned quickly. The red-headed lady of the house was standing there, looking at her amusedly. She glanced at Uncas and then back her, giving Alice a roguish wink, her eyes playful. Alice gave a tight-lipped smile.

"I was not… I was merely admiring the efficiency of the men, and how they work so well together."

"Yes, of course. Forgive me."

There was something in her tone that Alice had heard before. It was something she recognized. Sometimes certain people, people below her own station in life, would take that tone with her when they were scorning her mannerism.

Alice felt a redness creep into her face. Was she being so high-handed?

Tongue-tied, she made no response.

Beth smiled saccharinely, and began to speak on Uncas's virtues and how long she and Ian had known him and his family.

"Perhaps with the birth of the child, Chingachgook will come around."

Alice, her thoughts having drifted, came back to her senses when the Mohican family patriarch's name was brought into the conversation.

"Come around?" she repeated, puzzled. The basket of apples, while light, was putting a strain on her wrists. Alice bent down and gingerly placed the basket on the grass by the fence.

Beth nodded, closely watching the younger woman. Her blue eyes were shrewd.

"Why, yes. Seeing as how his son married against his wishes."

Alice balked. "Does he know about… about my…"

Beth looked at Alice sympathetically. "Oh, aye. Not that he wanted to hear about any of it. Went west immediately."

Alice had wondered about the Mohican elder these last few weeks, and his unceremonious departure from the Driessen's farm. She had wondered if he were displeased. Alice had no idea that her pregnancy had caused a rift and estrangement between father and son. Apparently he wanted nothing to do with Alice, or her child.

She suddenly felt more alone than ever.

Alice bit her lip. Shielding her eyes against the sun with her hand, she looked across the farm to Uncas. He was clearly enjoying himself with his friends, laughing in the sun. What had he given up? His former family unit. They had both lost their former ways of life, thought Alice glumly.

Looking back at Beth, she found the woman staring back at her expectantly. Was she expecting Alice to put on theatrics and melodrama? It certainly was not any of her concern.

"I will take these to the cellar," Alice replied cooly, hoisting the basket up as she began to make her way around Beth MacFadyen. _Bloody busybody._

* * *

Alice realized the answer to her earlier mental questions regarding her possibly high-handed demeanor that very afternoon.

The night had encroached early onto the land, sending the warmth and sunshine west over the mountains, and away from them all. She sat silently watching the three men and Beth laugh over ale, speaking of times past. Alice felt as if an impenetrable cage encased her, separating her from the others. She had nothing in common with any of them, much less her Indian partner, the one the others referred to as her husband— the father of the growing child in her womb.

Uncas glanced her way, his smile slipping a bit when he noticed her face. Alice had been schooled in the ways of society, and so gave a polite, vague smile.

"Alright?" Uncas asked, his deep voice causing that familiar lurch in her belly.

"Yes, thank you."

Alice took a sip of water, having no stomach for sour ale.

She saw the lightning quick look the other three shared. It was impossible to miss. That was when it hit her— they agreed. With Uncas's father. In her vanity, Alice had been so consumed by her own image. She was sure the others were critical of the social standing of a well-bred white girl taking up with a native. It was _her_ they were critical of. They knew Uncas, they loved him as a dear friend. It was _she_ they thought was not worthy of Uncas.

Her intuition closed in on the silent sentiment that floated tantalizingly between them all—

W _hat is he doing with_ her _?_

Alice voice shook as she stood, the movement silencing the others.

"I wish to take a stroll before bed. I shan't be long."

The tears that felt like pinpricks bit into her eyes, but she kept her head aloft, though her pride and dignity had taken a beating. Alice made her way out of the cabin.

 _You are being rude. Rude! Go back and apologize._

She couldn't. Alice's feet moved of their own accord. It was cowardly, she knew. It was always in her nature to flee. Cora would do something bold. Cora would toss her head and her dark curls back. She would win them over with her wit and her spirit.

Loathing rose up in her like bile. They were right. She was pathetic, and useless to Uncas.

She knew he would follow. She even knew when. Sitting on a tree root, Alice could see Uncas in her mind, as clearly as if he were in front of her now. She could see him finishing his drink with his friends, tossing glances at the door, fighting his worry over his manners before standing up to go see if she was alright.

Alice smiled bitterly when the cabin door opened.

His demeanor, as usual, was calm. It was Alice that spoke first. She could barely see Uncas as she turned her face towards his.

"I am sorry."

Uncas crouched by her side and reached for her hand. "It's alright—"

" _No._ _"_ Alice wanted him to understand the meaning of her words.

"I am sorry that this all happened. That you were landed with me."

"Landed?" Uncas repeated the word back to her, in that halting manner Indians spoke coupled with the odd inflection of the colonials. It occurred to Alice that he had never heard the word used in that way.

The first tear fell whilst Alice still stared at Uncas, then another. Uncas's face fell, his eyes unable to hide the distress he felt. Was she so pitiful in his eyes?

Uncas held her then, as her body shook with the force of her tears, of her pain.

"They are right," Alice whispered, her face pressed against his calico shirt. She could feel his hands rubbing her back.

"Right about what?" Uncas replied softly, his face in her hair.

"There is still time," Alice said instead, looking up earnestly. "You could still go west and find your father—"

"What?" Uncas interrupted, shocked. Her gently pushed her shoulders back to study her face.

Alice wiped her face but did not back down. "You could go. Before it is too late. I could go to Albany. Uncas, you need a woman who is strong and— and will not cause you embarrassment."

Uncas shook his head, bewildered. "Why would you think that?"

Alice looked down, mopping her face self-consciously. If he had to ask, there was no point in explaining.

"What can I do?" he asked instead, his hands stroking her hair. He seemed uncomfortable, as if unable to ascertain what the proper response aught to be. He was raised by men, Alice reminded herself.

"Let us leave this place. Let us go to Mr. Winthrop's cabin. Your friends do not want me here."

"Have they said anything to make you feel that way?" Uncas responded calmly. His eyes were serious.

Alice tried to think. Well, no, she thought reluctantly. They had _not_ said anything untoward to her, not precisely. Alice struggled to articulate it, when Uncas spoke.

"You all had different upbringings, sometimes there are misunderstandings." Uncas's voice was neutral, but his meaning was clear.

It made Alice feel even more wretched. She had not meant to act so high and mighty. Uncas gave her a half-smile, looking unruffled as usual.

"When can we leave?" she pressed.

"Soon."

"Uncas-"

"Alice, I must take care of things here. The work around the farm is nothing compared to what they will give us for the winter. You have to understand."

Alice sighed. "I am sorry, then. For everything. The caves…. your father… and now you are being forced to take me with you."

"I want to take you. I always wanted this."

Uncas's confession seemed to surprise them both. Alice, blushing to her roots, bit her lip and made no reply. _Surely there was no double meaning to his words._

He only held her closer as the moon rose in the sky.

* * *

The days passed slowly, and all were occupied with harvest time activities. In exchange for helping them out, the couple were providing Uncas and Alice with provisions for their winter at Jack's cabin, which was several hours south. Alice found an old, worn dress that Beth had meant to use for scraps and— having asked the older woman for it— spent several painstaking hours of labor transforming it into an odd looking but serviceable day dress. Even the men were impressed. The dress laced in the front, with laces pulled from her old cream gown, and had more lacings hidden that could be let out to accommodate her figure once she started to expand.

Alice felt pride swell in her as she locked eyes with Uncas. The skills she lacked she could easily learn, she thought heartily, and the ones she had were unique and still had some value.

Uncas smiled, his gaze warm. Alice longed in that moment to close the distance between them and kiss him. She wanted more than what they had in this crowded farm.

He had grown even more attentive. Attentive was an odd word to use, Alice decided, especially when describing the young Indian man. He never hovered or stifled her, and only repeated himself when he thought she was not eating enough. Her swelling belly was now more noticeable to the cabin dwellers, and the peculiarity of having a (now quite obviously) pregnant young woman among them turned the men more solicitous, and Beth more animated. Alice fancied she saw hints of wistfulness in Beth sometimes, such as whenever Alice rubbed her belly, and whenever Uncas lay a palm on her carefully.

"Here," Beth whispered one brisk day at the close of October. The men were outdoors and the women were working inside the cabin, cleaning and cooking.

Alice glanced up from her sweeping. Beth had a bundle in her arms. Alice quickly leaned the broom against the wall and took the bundle, curious.

Inside were an assortment of blankets and small frocks.

"I doubt I will need them," Beth shrugged, "the midwives told me I can't bear children, not after my last miscarriage."

Alice was struck by this, by the differences in temperament between the two women, and now Beth's sad tale. She thought back to the times Beth would try to converse with her on her pregnancy, and names for the child; Alice would always demure, thinking it not proper.

 _Why did I act so?_

"I fear I may have offended you," Alice found herself saying, eyes downcast, "I have been ill-mannered and disagreeable. I pray you will forgive me. I am… very anxious about the coming winter and the birth."

Beth squeezed her shoulder in commiseration. "The birth will be in the late spring, I would guess. May to June. I will be there to assist you, in any case."

Alice glanced up, startled and relieved. "That is so kind of you."

Beth nodded, her eyes taking on a serious glint. "Uncas is a good man. He will care for you. I am sending you all with some spare fabric. Don't waste it on embroidery or kerchiefs, girl. Make diapers for the babe. Save some of the rags for the birth. Use wool for pilchers."

Alice gave Beth a genuine smile which she returned. Uncas had mentioned they would stay for a few more weeks, and Alice was happy now that this was the case.

* * *

It was a windy November day when they finally struck out on their own.

The walk to Jack's cabin was not too very tiring. They had borrowed one of Ian's nags, and loaded the creature with their belongings. Uncas had told her he was not keen on Alice sitting atop a horse since, no matter how cautious they could be, a spooked horse could easily throw her off.

Bidding farewell that morning had been difficult in it's own way. Jack had embraced her and wished her well, reminding her that they were a few hours walk if anything was needed. He'd chucked her chin and tipped his hat.

Ian had given her shoulder a surprisingly affectionate squeeze, gruffly repeating more or less the same well wishes. He had even smiled. Somewhat.

Beth had been tearful, telling Alice that everything would be alright, and she would visit come spring.

"Get to know your husband," she had whispered privately when leaning in for a hug, "in every sense of the word, lass."

She had winked cheekily and Alice blushed, but did not feel shocked as she would have been before.

"While I am… with child?" she whispered back, her eyes darting back to the men, making sure they were out of ear shot.

Beth chuckled, shaking her head at Alice as if amused by her naivety.

Jack's farm was larger than Ian's, though it had same air of ramshackled, shabby welcome. The land had obviously been left untended, overgrown as it was with weeds. It was too cold now to plant anything, Alice knew, and they had brought enough to feed them for the winter. In any case, Uncas had to go on a hunt for their winter meat in the next day or so.

Lowering her haversack before the hearth, Alice explored the interior of the cabin while Uncas explored the outside— both getting the lay of the land, as it were. She saw the areas that needed repairs and was fully prepared to turn this into her temporary home. Jack was a widower, Alice knew, and hadn't seemed inclined to marry since his wife had passed away around five years before, and so this cabin truly needed a woman's touch and a good cleaning.

She saw it then and gasped aloud in delight. _A bathing tub!_

When Uncas re-entered the cabin, he grunted in amusement at the sight of Alice sweeping the hearth enthusiastically, a fire already lit.

"Alright?" he queried with his familiar words.

Alice nodded. "I need some water."

"Making soup?"

"For my bath."

Uncas laughed soundly at this. Alice shook her head, cross. He was use to bathing daily in the river, he had no idea the difficulty it was for her to not have this one comfort. She could survive with little, she had learned, but sinking into a warm bath did wonders for her mental state.

"I'll get the water," Uncas said instead, tossing her another amused look as he passed by her side with the kettles.

* * *

Late that night, the couple sat before the fire. They were comfortable and relaxed, Alice was reading an old newspaper from Philadelphia by the poor light. It was good for mental stimulation, though she missed her novels and books of poetry. She smiled, remembering her hidden copy of _Pamela_ that her friends and she had secretly passed around.

Alice finished her peppermint tea and set the mug down with a yawn. Uncas, who was busy taking apart and cleaning his trade musket beside her, looked up.

"Tired?" he asked casually.

Alice shook her head, finger combing her long hair. It had dried hours before but without a brush had tangled.

Instead of sharing with him her reading habits (especially licentious novels) she peeked up at him from below her lashes.

"I was thinking about your hunt tomorrow."

Uncas grunted but made no reply. Alice was accustomed to this odd Indian linguistic custom by now, so she continued staring at the flames that danced in the hearth.

"What if you are injured?" Alice allowed worry to creep into her voice. "What if you cannot find your way back?"

Uncas set the musket down. "Not possible."

Alice met his gaze stubbornly. "Impossible that you could ever be hurt? Or that something unexpected might happen? You might be gone for days, Uncas."

Uncas nodded his assent at the last bit. "Yes. Probably a day or so. But I won't get lost or hurt. Been hunting on my own since I was fourteen summers."

Alice shook her head glumly. She wanted fresh meat, but not at the cost of anything happening to Uncas.

They were silent for several minutes more until Uncas nudged her.

"I have something for you."

Alice looked up. "What is it?"

Uncas only smiled and retrieved something from one of his many pockets. It was wrapped tightly in a cloth cotton scrap. Perplexed, Alice carefully unwrapped her little bundle. She let out a faint gasp, astonished.

"Uncas! How did you…." Alice was struck speechless.

In the wrapping lay her bracelet that she had sold almost two months before. It had been her most cherished piece of jewelry, an elegant and dainty piece of gold and pearls. Alice remembered her father's smile as he gave it to her, standing proud in his red military uniform, during the ball he had thrown for her sixteenth birthday. Alice felt something in her chest stir.

"I cannot thank you enough."

Uncas shrugged. "Belongs with you."

Alice inched closer to him, compelled to be nearer. "Did you have to pay much to buy it back? I sold it for so little, and it is somewhat valuable…"

Uncas shrugged again, not inclined to discuss the sordid topic of coin.

Alice continued beaming at him, the stirring in her chest intensifying until she felt breathless with it. Alice was dumbstruck, lightheaded, unable to do anything more than look at his face. She felt she was rooted to the ground.

"Alright?" Uncas spoke his usual query, perplexed.

"Yes," Alice replied. She swallowed thickly, in a wonder over she was suddenly unable to think or breathe.

Alice carefully lay the bracelet down in the wrapping on the ground and moved closer. Uncas stopped his work to stare. His gaze was intense, all molten heat. Now he seemed to be the one that was struck with nerves.

This being the first kiss she had ever initiated— when she was in her right mind, at least— Alice was hesitant as her lips drew nearer to his. Uncas was completely immobile, but once their lips met, several things happened at once. Uncas deepened the kiss, encircling her waist with his hands, grasping the material of her dress tightly in his fists. At the same time, Alice sank into his embrace, certain that this heat would consume them both. It was the most erotic thing she had ever felt, nothing like she had read in tawdry novels.

Alice felt his lips move, sliding down her neck. Alice squeezed her eyes shut, gasping. Uncas stilled, suddenly. She could feel his shoulders heaving. The emotional bond between them was so strong, so very strong that Alice could sense what his thoughts and feelings were. Of her condition, of not wanting to harm her with his actions. That the last time this had happened, Alice had been left ruined and devastated.

She lowered her head, resting her cheek on his midnight black hair. She could feel the perspiration that dotted his forehead.

"We are here now," she whispered. Things were different. She was no longer afraid— not of him, at any rate.

He looked up, eyes hooded.

When she reached for the lacings on the front of her gown, Uncas kissed her again, heavily, fiercely. She felt she was lost in him, more so when he laid her back onto the softness of the hides. When his moves became hesitant again, Alice pulled him closer, her eyes drawn to the rough beams that made up the roof of this cabin. Her breath hitched at the unexpected sensations he was provoking. She was so consumed with him, with all of him, that she barely registered the whispered words he spoke to her in his language.

The next morning, before dawn, Alice awoke drowsily to the feeling of being carried. Uncas deposited her on the trundle Jack used for a bed, keeping the furs wrapped around her. Alice dozed for the next several minutes, while she listened to Uncas prepare for his hunting trip, packing and loading his rifle among other things.

She felt a touch on her wrist, but was too tired to even open her eyes. When she did, the sun was bright outside, visible from even the most minute cracks in the wooden walls. Looking down, Alice saw her bracelet sitting jauntily on her wrist.

With a smile, Alice rose and prepared for the day ahead.

* * *

The last scene I moved up from the next chapter. Like?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

" _Yakwawiak use to roam these lands many, many generations ago. We called him the stiff-legged bear."_

" _How big was it?"_

" _Taller than a tree. He had a long nose that fell almost to the ground, and long teeth that curved over his mouth. His hide was very thick. He would eat the people he came across."_

" _How terrible. It sounds like an elephant."_

" _What is that?"_

" _I have only seen drawings of it. They live across the world. Tell me more, Uncas, of the stiff-legged bear."_

" _Mmm. Some tribes still have the skulls and bones. They are bigger than any animal alive today."_

" _Have you ever seen the bones?"_

" _Never."_

" _I am glad they are no longer here, but I wish I could see one. I wonder if dragon bones exist. Alright, now it is my turn. Tonight I shall tell you about…. Princess Rashiecoats of Scotland."_

* * *

It was now _Lowan_ — winter time. It was cold, but not brutally so. Not yet. For this Uncas gave thanks to Mannitto.

The days were still busy, as he rose early most days to tend to the farm and continue preparations for the coming weeks of deep cold. It kept his mind sharp and his worries down; he also wanted Jack to find his land and farm in better condition than he had left it.

His thought often drifted to his father. He dreamed of him once during the beginning of _Anixi Gischuch,_ the time of the year when the ground squirrels run for shelter. He saw his father as he always had looked, his bearing erect and proud, his eyes weary. In his dream, his father had tried to speak to him, but his face became obscured by a sudden whirlwind of snow.

He woke up, his heart thudding, his mind overrun with many thoughts. More than anything the pain of their separation. He never thought his own father would turn away from him as he had.

Alice would have bad dreams as well, often crying out and tossing in her sleep. She would even speak in another language. Once awakened, Alice would not open up to him about the dreams. She only mentioned that she grew up in Scotland speaking another tongue. _Gae-lic_. Now apart from English society, her soft voice began to drift more towards the Scots accent of her childhood.

Uncas began to burn red cedar to ward off any bad spirits that might be causing them unrest.

Was the Great Spirit angry with him? Had his offenses been so grave?

As Alice grew with child, he wondered if he had done the right thing, taking this young girl away from Albany and London and all she knew. This was better, he thought, than her fleeing into obscurity and shame on her own. Than never meeting his own flesh and blood that Alice carried in her womb.

Their days were simple. He was still able to hunt, though meat was scarce. The deer meat they stored had been salted and dried for consumption during the snow time. It was coming, of that he had no doubt. The thought of being snowed in with a pregnant Alice unnerved him, because what if something happened?

He refused to dwell on such bad thoughts. His only tasks now were keeping Alice well-fed and happy, and teaching her how to cook and clean and manage a woman's household duties. He constantly had to remind her of keeping the fire going when he went out for a hunt or to check the traps. She knew so little that sometimes he was still surprised, though he knew better than to say it to her.

They told each other stories, and she would read sonnets out loud. It was a peaceful winter so far.

She had stitched together cloth diapers, and he started to plan out in his mind how to build a cradle.

When spring came, he would be ready to greet his child.

* * *

Uncas checked his traps every day. Now he would only find maybe a muskrat, or the odd rabbit.

On his way back this particular day, he realized that the freeze and snow were imminent. He knew because, though he was wrapped in a thick wolf pelt, the cold sank into his bones.

Entering the cabin, Uncas gingerly set the rabbit down on the small, crude table he had set apart for skinning animals, now that they had been driven indoors. Stretching, Uncas shucked off his hide.

Alice stood from her place near the hearth and greeted him with a smile. Her eyes searched his face anxiously, smile still in place. She knew he was worried. Like most of the Europeans he had met, she had that peculiar habit of smiling rigidly whenever she felt insecure about something.

"Welcome back, Uncas."

Uncas hid a smile. So formal.

Later that evening, they finished their supper of rabbit meat stew. They hardly used the sturdy table, preferring to have their supper in front of the hearth. They sat close by each other, basking in the warmth of the fire. It crackled cheerfully.

She enjoyed reading by the fire. Alice had found a trunk of books that had belonged to Jacks's wife, Katerina, who had died years before. He saw that Alice enjoyed the works of Shakespeare and Francis Bacon.

Alice smiled at him, the firelight dancing in her eyes. She set the volume she was reading down. Leaning forward, she touched her fingers lightly to his chest, stroking the tattoo on his chest. She knew what a single touch from her did to him.

Uncas drew back slightly, pressing a kiss on her forehead instead.

"You're tired. Get some sleep."

Alice retreated, looking slightly rebuffed and hurt. Uncas felt the guilt fall swiftly upon him. He had not meant to hurt her feelings. It was just that he was beginning to think that he _had_ behaved basely, as his father had accused him.

This was something that was difficult to articulate, let alone explain to her. In his culture, men did not share their wives's beds while they were pregnant or nursing their children. It was unheard of. His father had once made it a point to mention that to his sons— that unlike the whites, who never gave their wives any peace and harassed the young maidens, Indians respected womanhood.

Their nights together so far had been enjoyable— more than enjoyable. She had lost her bashfulness and fell willingly into his arms night after night. They explored each other in the light of the fire, every secret place, and with every caress and lovemaking he felt everything he felt for her deepen. Everything she said and did, every sigh she made, was as searing as if she had burned him.

Was it like that for every man?

He could not help but think that perhaps it was too much. His father was a wise man— surely he would have known the truth of this sort of issue. White people sometimes had as many as ten children, one after the other, while the Indians restrained themselves, and their own children were much more widely spaced.

Alice still looked at him, though she suddenly looked stricken by a thought.

"Do you not find me attractive because I am expanding?"

Uncas looked at her quickly. Why would she think that? He reached for her hand but she jerked it away. She made a move to retreat, to stand and flee, he knew, but he gently restrained her.

"No, Alice." His voice was firm. "Let's talk."

He knew she could be petulant, and that she was prideful. Even now, her jaw clenched rigidly, her eyes hard. What a stubborn little wife he had.

"You should rest as much as you can."

"I do rest," she reminded him, lips turning down sulkily. "All I do is rest."

"I know," Uncas said patiently, "but I don't want to tire you even more. Or hurt you."

Alice kept her eyes on him, expressionless. Then her face softened.

"You have never hurt me," she murmured, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He held her flush against him, her curves soft.

Perhaps his father had been mistaken about this. Perhaps he would have to learn the intricacies of marriage himself. The thought made him smile.

* * *

As Uncas had predicted, the coldest part of winter came swiftly.

He spent the time making repairs to the cabin to keep the drafts to a minimum, and carving and assembling a cradle. His people did not use cradles, strictly speaking, but he knew Alice would want one. He also began to build a cradle board. He had only a vague idea of what one looked like, and so he was compelled to get creative in the building. He knew there was a foot rest of sorts, padding, and blankets and twine.

Once he was sufficiently satisfied with the end product, Uncas attached a beaded amulet for protection that his own father had given him as a child , onto the cradle.

Alice seemed more enthusiastic about the cradle than the cradle board. She would place blankets into it, then rearrange them a little every day. She said she wished she could make a poppet, but did not wish to waste any more linen.

The weeks wore on in December, and snow began to fill the land. At first it was light, a smooth coating over everything. Then, the world turned white.

He had built them snow shoes, and Alice would walk outside around the cabin on the days the snow would cease. The winter light was faint, the sun ran from grandfather north wind, the spirit of winter. Thankfully they had enough wood to keep the cabin warm, and enough to eat. They had pummikan and dried meat, and also had dried fruits. They had corn, beans, and rice.

They also kept each other warm during the long, cold nights.

* * *

" _No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:_

 _We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:_

 _When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,_

 _And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,_

 _And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh_

 _At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues_

 _Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,_

 _Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;_

 _And take upon's the mystery of things,_

 _As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,_

 _In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,_

 _That ebb and flow by the moon."_

" _Alice."_

" _Yes?"_

" _Why are you sad?"_

" _This passage merely reminded me of my mother. She died so suddenly. As did my father."_

* * *

Uncas kept his weight off the warm body beneath his, bracing himself on his forearms, his head in the hollow of her neck. He waited until her breathing returned to normal. Pressing a kiss lightly on her lips, Uncas gently rolled off and lay at her side, his eyes blinking languidly up at the ceiling. He was drowsy from lovemaking, every limb relaxed.

Alice moved her body closer, draping herself onto his chest, her eyes meeting his— large and bright. She smiled and waited.

"Again?" he asked, amused and beguiled by her beauty in the firelight. Her long, golden hair lay over his skin.

Her hand skittered lightly over the flesh on his stomach, stroking the faded scars. His breath hitched. She pressed her warm lips onto the taut skin of his chest.

Uncas helped her move onto him, and ran his hands down her smooth back. This was what storms and thunder were made of, he thought.

Some time later, Uncas made to pick up his sleeping wife and move her to the trundle. It was too small to fit them both, and did not accommodate his long legs.

He was surprised to feel Alice's sleepy murmur of dissent. "Let us stay like this."

"Bed is more comfortable," he replied in a whisper, stroking a stray strand of hair off her face.

"I am warm here. With you."

He lay still then as she burrowed deeper into her blankets and him. Sleep took him quickly into dreams.

* * *

Many, many miles away, across the Ohio River, Chingachgook was himself sleepless; he could find no peace in slumber or meditation. His heart was heavy, as if made of ice.

His thoughts continually strayed to his sons in the east. His eldest had decided to go to Albany with his wife, instead of Can-tuck-ee, at just the mere suggestion from the dark one.

And Uncas.

 _Uncas_.

His blood son had dishonored him. The betrayal he had committed had been unspeakable.

Chingachgook stared broodingly into the fire in his wigwam. He had not felt warm since arriving here with his kinsmen.

Uncas had always stared at the blonde Yengeese women, fascinated by them. He had even stared at John Cameron's wife for longer than was necessary, during the years he was growing into manhood. He was not sure if Uncas had ever laid with a woman, but he thought perhaps he had in the Delaware camps. He had heard some talk here and there, though Chingachgook had always refused to pry. None of the women had ever caught Uncas's attention, however. His mind was always elsewhere, on the hunt, on their daily lives. Never really on the future. Chingachgook had always tolerated this with patience, knowing that the young were foolish in this regard. When he had finally spoken to Uncas during the previous spring, his heart had been glad when his blood son had agreed to travel west and settle with a Delaware girl.

Instead, Uncas had lost his head over that silly white girl. He had thrown both of their futures away by running off with her. With a strange, frail Yengeese girl that was so weak, even amongst her own people. He had chosen to dilute and therefore pollute their bloodlines over a fit of lust and infatuation.

Chingachgook grimaced, shaking his head grimly. He found that he could not hold any more anger, however. If he did, he knew it would consume him.

He carefully unravelled the letter he had received earlier in the day. From his white son. A runner from Albany had gone west, and the letter had passed from hand to hand, before reaching the winter camp of the Lenape. He stared at Nathaniel's spindly handwriting.

 _Father,_

 _I am not sure when or if this letter will reach you. I hope you are well. Cora sends her kind regards._

Chingachgook snorted in disdain. He doubted that she had.

 _We were married in a small ceremony with Reverend Wheelock in attendance. The weather is cold but Cora enjoys the snow very much._

 _Father, I urge you as a son and brother to forgive Uncas. He never meant to betray you. He took responsibility for his actions with Alice. Uncas and Alice are not with us in Albany. We parted ways near Schuylerville. I think they were headed north east. I don't know where they went. In the spring, Cora and I will find them, we hope._

 _I wish you well. I hope this letter finds you, Father._

 _NP_

Chingachgook refolded the missive. Why had Uncas separated from his brother? With the moon-haired girl expecting a child?

He was worried for the youngsters. After the news of the girl's condition had broken, Uncas had acted with a rashness very unlike him. As if he feared any delay would cause the girl to disappear into wisps of smoke. He had exiled himself and her. Perhaps he had been too shamed.

 _She is carrying your grandchild._

Chingachgook had ruminated over those words for several moons now. His anger had been so strong that he had shut his heart out to anything else. Now, he wondered.

Would he ever meet his grandchild?

* * *

Part filler/part slice-of-life chapter. I appreciate any and all reviews!


	10. Chapter 10

_"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."_

 _― Mark Twain_

* * *

Chapter Ten

* * *

 _He stood in a bright meadow, savoring the warmth of the sun that shone blindingly above him. He could smell the crispness of the fresh spring air as he inhaled deeply, could see the little veins in the leaves as the sunlight filtered through._

 _Where was he?_

 _Squinting, he glanced ahead and spotted something out of the ordinary. It looked like a child. A very young child darting in and out of the foliage, circling the trees on stumbling little feet. He could not tell the gender of the child as it was clothed in a frock and moved fast. Much too fast for a child of 2 or 3 years. The child suddenly paused and tossed him a glance from across the sunlit meadow._

 _His heart suddenly pounded. He recognized those eyes, with a painful clarity. It was… it had to be—_

 _The child turned on its heels and took off, stumbling but swiftly. Like_ hinutet, _a little wren._

 _He took off after it, the green leaves of mother earth turning into a blur. He ran as he hadn't ran for many years._

 _Yet he could not reach the child. How was it possible? The chasm in his heart filled with yearning._

Naughees _, he thought, stop your fleeing. I am old now._

 _I am_ machum _. Your grandfather._

* * *

 _Tsquali Gischuch_

The moon when the frogs sing in the marshes.

Late winter that was spilling into early spring.

Chingachgook had been traveling for months, moving from place to place, his eyes on the moon and sun, his mind on his changing surroundings, and his heart with his son.

He had been to Albany and had surprised his white son and his dark haired wife. They had not expected him to appear during the winter, but had welcomed him warmly. Even the dark hair. She had cooked for him, mended his clothes, read to him at night. They had only a small room in the back of his old friend Reverend Wheelock's house. He had given the still newly married couple privacy in the few days it took him to recuperate from his travel. Had slept by the fire. He hadn't been able to stay. He had a long journey ahead of him.

Nathaniel had blustered his disapproval at his plans. _Stay. We will go together when the weather is favorable. You are not exactly a young man anymore, noosh. Reckon you should stay and help Reverend Wheelock with his carpentry. He also gardens during the spring._

Insolent.

He had been young once, many moons before. He had been stronger than his mouthy older son, faster even than his blood son Uncas, who was called _Le Cerf Agile_ — the bounding elk.

But Chingachgook had known his eldest boy was correct, he was indeed old now. He had slept for two days upon arrival in Albany. His bones often radiated pain, especially in the joints. The dark hair— Cora— made him a tea of winter rose hip to counteract the discomfort.

Nathaniel could not understand. Not just yet. He was not yet a father, after all. Still he did not grouse too much, only told him where he thought Uncas and the girl might be.

After a week of resting and building up energy he had left the worried young couple and his old friend John Wheelock behind, and he had set off for the wild, visiting white towns and _Umami_ villages along the way.

He had encountered storms of snow and ice, crossed frozen lakes, valleys and hills. At times he faltered, his legs no longer able to support him as they had years before. Old age brought wisdom and the respect of others to warriors, he thought. But also aches and pains.

He traveled south as winter began to blend into _Achpateuny_ _,_ the fickle east wind of early spring. Taunting the world with a hint of warmth, before hurtling more snow and ice their way.

No matter. He would complete this journey. He was _Le Gros Serpent,_ after all. He knew all the winding ways of men and nature.

Eventually he changed course slightly and made his way to Ian and Beth's cabin. He hoped they would be available and had not traveled to Albany, or worse, had not survived the earlier bloodshed.

To his relief, the farm was unscathed, and surrounding area peaceful. Peering around carefully, he saw someone completely unexpected, so much so that he paused.

Jack Winthrop, looking about the same as he always did, complete with his old tricorn hat and shabby uniform.

Jack looked at him in amazement for several seconds and, dropping the pile of wood he had been hauling indoors, approached him quickly. His mouth cracked into a wide grin.

"Chingachgook!" he called out, beaming. They shook hands, and Jack laughed aloud with glee, in his usual jocular manner that concealed so well his rebellious heart.

"Glad to see you alive, Jack," Chingachgook said baldly.

"What are you up to, then?"

"Passing through."

Jack nodded, still smiling.

"Come in, come in! I know I speak for Ian and Beth when I say that you are always welcome. Hope you're hungry. Beth made rice and beans and beef stew."

Chingachgook had not anticipated finding the young captain here along than Ian and his wife. He had known Jack since he was a around 13 summers. He was the same age as Nathaniel, and they had become the best of friends, even with Uncas when his younger son grew older. So he was gladdened, truly, that Jack had escaped death. That they all had. It boded well.

 _The Master of Life is good._

* * *

Later that night they all drank ale while they readied for bed. The days were still short and winter had worn them all down.

Beth talked and talked as she always did, and the younger men conversed among themselves, ignoring her. So the wheel turned and yet some things remained the same.

Chingachgook smoked his pipe, pensive. No matter how comfortable he felt, or how warm and well-fed, he had to move on after the sun rose. He was thinking of whether or not to turn his attention to Cumberland County when something Beth said penetrated his inattention.

Chingachgook set his pipe down carefully.

"How did you know I had traveled to Can-tuck-ee alone?" he questioned. The firelight reflected eerily in his eyes.

Beth choked slightly on her ale. The others looked suddenly tense.

"Pardon?" she stalled, smoothing her dress. She was red-faced.

Chingachgook looked instead to the men. His instincts were closing in on something.

Ian began to speak but Jack interrupted him. He wore a cautious yet determined expression. Chingachgook sensed that he felt it was his filial duty to respond since he had known Chingachgook and his family for so long.

"Chingachgook, Uncas and Alice spent part of the autumn with us here."

Chingachgook flexed his fingers compulsively. Only years and years of self-control and meditation stopped him but taking his anger out on the white people before him. One a de facto son, the others dear friends who had always sheltered and fed and aided his own family, even when they had so little of their own.

Why had they not revealed this sooner?

"Why?" he murmured.

His question was a loaded one. Either way, they understood.

Beth cleared her throat, still looking embarrassed.

"We understand that you had a falling out with Uncas over… over his wife."

 _Wife._

The word had been carefully chosen by the woman, Chingachgook sensed. It meant that, while they respected the Mohican chief and patriarch, they also felt duty-bound to the white girl. The implication was clear.

 _She is one of us. We accept her._

This bit of conscientious defiance aside, the one word had Chingachgook staring broodingly towards the fire. Months before, if his younger son had referred to that pale wisp of a white girl as his wife, he might have struck his son. Now, however, the tides of change had creeped into the shores of his old age, dragging back his wishes for his son, his hope for an unblemished line to be replenished.

"Where are they?"

Silence.

Chingachgook raised his head and glared darkly, his black eyes scanning the others unblinkingly.

At this, the younger Yengeese people looked cowed. He was in absolutely no mood to dissemble or waste time.

"They left in November," Beth said softly, her eyes lit with compassion and tenacity, her two most prominent traits.

Chingachgook stared hard at her, and while she fidgeted nervously, she did not falter.

Ian leaned forward, obviously thinking it was time to take the reigns from his headstrong, loose-lipped wife.

"As my wife said, they were here for a spell." The Scotsman's brogue was thick to Chingachgook's ears. "They had no where else to go, or at least, nothing planned. Uncas worked the farm with Jack and I, and Beth took it upon herself to try to teach Alice how to cook and clean."

Now Chingachgook did feel the first flickers of the old rage and indignation. Yes, _teach_ her because the moon-hair had been pampered her whole life to the point that she could barely boil water. She could not skin an animal, knew nothing of housekeeping, and now his son, a strong and noble warrior and one who would be chief one day, was saddled with her.

He remembered why he was traveling, remembered his dream of his elusive grandchild, and said a prayer to the Master of Life for patience.

"Once they had enough provisions, they decided to head on their own, until the spring when they could buy land and start building."

"And their child is born," Beth added, sipping on her cider. Chingachgook saw Jack wince on the side.

"Where are they?" Chingachgook repeated evenly. He would head that way— wherever they were— as soon as the sun rose.

"Why?" Beth asked brusquely. Her gaze was strong, warring between worry and false bravado.

"Mind your tongue," Ian hissed, her eyes forbidding. "You are speaking to an elder, wife."

"And I meant no offense, husband," Beth retorted. "Chingachgook and his family are as dear to me as you are. He and his boys speak plainly. Why cannot the same be for myself?"

"Too much cheek, Elizabeth."

Ian glowered at his wife but offered no further words. He was never one to jump to a confrontation. Jack looked at his friends helplessly.

"Chingachgook, friend," she stressed the latter word, "I merely wish to know what your plans are."

The men stared at her, stunned at Beth's audacity. Chingachgook had always known her to bold, brazen, and unabashed, but this impertinence was surprising.

Beth took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, seemingly seeking composure.

"What I meant, Chingachgook, is… Uncas came to us with a pregnant young woman, with no clear destination in mind. It was clear how saddened he was by his estrangement to you. He and Alice are so very _young._ I must ask— will you attempt to separate them?"

It was no easy feat for Chingachgook to curb his distaste at Beth's lack of manners. A woman should never upbraid or interrogate a man, especially a guest in her home. Perhaps _Yengeese_ had different customs?

It was not in Chingachgook's nature to think ill of his own friends and acquaintances, however. And he was wise enough to know that Beth's discourteous words came from a place of concern. His ears should be open to listen.

As he had not done with his own son.

"You can mend fences at anytime, friend," Beth said with a small small. Her face glowed cheerily in the firelight, "Alice is dear to us, as well as Uncas. She feels so alone. And yet she chose your son."

"My son dishonored her," Chingachgook muttered in low tones. His voice were almost a caress, though the words were sharp and laced with pain. "He dishonored me at the same time. He was forced into that…" Chingachgook searched for a proper description, "arrangement with the girl."

"Alright," Jack interjected loudly as he leaned forward, eyes steely, "Uncas lifted her skirts—"

"Jack!" Ian thundered, appalled. Beth gave a shocked and titillated giggle behind her hand.

"—but he acted as a man should and took responsibility. Now, I reckon you're still sore because she's white, and we don't blame you on that. They're not exactly well-matched. She's an odd little thing. Kind of uppity about her background, too."

"Jack, we are trying to tell Chingachgook—" Ian attempted again to interrupt but his attempt was moot. Jack had that fervent look in his eyes that he wore when he was inspired.

Jack gesticulated wildly at this point, sweeping his red-blonde locks back.

"Beth is right. Alice could have left at any time, could have ran off on him, could have done a number of things. But she didn't. She chose to remain with Uncas. It was more than them being leg-shackled together over the baby. They want to be together. Even a blind man could see it."

Chingachgook scoffed. Jack Winthrop was always so cloak-and-dagger about the most trivial things. He was surprised the younger man didn't stand on the chair. The whites were a breed apart, he reminded himself. They would never understand that Uncas had flouted his father's most express commands, and had turned his back on their people, their customs, their way of life.

They were also mistaken if they thought he meant ill towards the white girl. She carried his grandchild, and Uncas had been the one to behave shamelessly.

With a shake of his head, he stared squarely into Jack's blue eyes.

"Where are they?" was his only question, repeated now for a third time.

"Will you attempt to separate them?" Beth said again a little frantically. Her mouth was a hard line across her pale face, and yet her eyes were distressed.

"We mean you no disrespect whatsoever, Chingachgook," Ian spoke up, his gaze intent. "We are worried. Uncas has done so much to be with the lass that it would be unpardonable for us to aid— in any way— any attempt to come between them."

He took a long swig of his tankard and wiped his mouth, solemn and morose as ever.

"Uncas, my only blood son, had a responsibility since birth," Chingachgook countered grimly. "He chose an English girl. He defied me."

"Scottish girl," Ian said with some spirit. "Not English. He could do worse."

Chingachgook had heard enough. With a quick grunt of thanks for the food and shelter, he stood quickly with every intention of leaving the cabin immediately. Better to camp out in the forest than have to tolerate this contempt. He would have to find them himself.

"Please, _I beg of you,"_ Beth was near tears now, "we do not wish to end our friendship. We care for you so. It would wound our hearts forever to lose your esteem."

Chingachgook stiffened and stood stock-still at her words. Anger, helplessness, despair… such dark things for a man of his age to feel. Folly and pride. He knew only that he did not want to go down such a path himself, that dark emotions festered in hearts and caused anguish. He also knew that he wanted to meet his grandchild, the little _hinutet_ that tantalized him in a dream, hinting at an eternal separation.

Though his heart was heavy, the wounds still fresh, he wanted to see that the youngsters were well, that the pregnancy was progressing satisfactorily. That they were warm. Content.

Slamming the door shut on his pride, he slowly turned back to face the stricken expressions of the white friends he knew so well.

"Never. I will never separate them. He chose his woman, and his own path. I want to meet my grandchild before _alalechen._ Before my death."

* * *

Sorry about the late update. I thought Chingachgook deserved an entire chapter. He sounds shifty, I know, but I think he would struggle to voice things so personal to people younger than him. I hope you enjoyed it, and please R&R. Many thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

"Tell me about your homeland."

"London? Well—"

"No. Scotland."

Alice paused her sewing. Swinging her eyes towards Uncas, she frowned delicately and did not answer.

"You always ask me about my people," Uncas pointed out, bringing Alice a steaming mug of tea from the hearth. She accepted it with a whispered thanks.

Alice took a small sip, savoring the mint smell and taste of the tea that Uncas prepared for her daily. The smell always made me think of forests in the dead of winter, of ice maidens of folktales.

Now in her seventh month of pregnancy (she thought, based on her tentative calculations) the nausea had almost completely subsided. She was experiencing more lethargy as she went about the day with her swollen belly, and she felt much more out of breath doing even the simplest tasks. Such as walking or lifting something light.

Uncas carried himself with a watchful, worried energy; she had decided months before, during the dead of winter, to not complain as much. In truth, with her newfound reticence she was able to realize how much she had indeed complained and browbeat the young warrior.

He was right, however. She always _did_ want to hear more about him and his customs than she was willing to speak of her own.

Alice took a fortifying breath and set the mug beside her.

"What would you like to know?" she asked, slightly baffled. She did not feel she was so very interesting to warrant such a close inspection of her early years. She did not have the best of memories after….

"Where were you born?" Uncas propped himself next to her, stretching his long limbs out and gazing into the fire.

"I have told you. Inverness."

"Tell me about it."

Alice stared, then shook her head. Uncas raised a black brow in a playful challenge.

"Well," Alice began her yarn somewhat awkwardly, then paused. She hated being asked to speak on any subject on command. He should understand, given how reserved he was by nature.

"It is very green. But also… dry. In comparison to London."

That was all she said, and she thought the matter would end there. Uncas smiled enigmatically.

"Tell me of your people. Your family."

Alice expelled a breath of air. An old pain pinpricked her heart.

"My mother's family are Clan Macleod from the Isle of Skye. My father's family are from Inverness. That is where my sister and I were born and raised."

"Clans?"

"Er… yes. A group of families that lived together. We had a _laird,_ I suppose similar to your chief, and our own language and customs differed from the English."

"Why had? Don't exist anymore?"

She knew he was making a rare jest. She hated thinking of it.

"Not in a strict sense of the word, no."

His smile disappeared, and Alice turned to look broodingly into the fire.

"Certain people, including my family, rebelled against crown law. It is… all gone."

"Gone? Your people?"

"Our way of life. Once the insurgency was crushed, the English banned our language, our customs, our tartans. Most of the men were arrested for high treason. The lands were sacked. My father, the only one of my family that was always loyal to England, took me from Inverness and put me in an English boarding school. Until I was able to acclimate, he said."

"And did you? _Acc-li-mate?"_

Alice struggled to explain.

"Not at first. I… I missed my language, and my people. I was always shy, but the girls excluded me because of the way I spoke and because they said my family were filthy traitors. Animals."

Uncas's eyes were compassionate, though he did not speak up.

"I decided that I should indeed acclimate myself. It stopped the girls's tormenting me, and made my father happy. It was what he always wanted for me. To be an English lady."

"Are you English?" Uncas asked mildly. His midnight-black brows looked like ravens wings, she thought.

Alice stared at him, wordless. She remembered her mother's songs and stories. The cadence and lilt of her first language. The burst of stars on clear summer nights…. She remembered the dances and stories, and the freedom she had once had for such a little time. Running wild in the meadows, climbing trees, riding her little horse without a side saddle. The smells and sounds of Inverness.

"No," she whispered, gripping the fabric of her skirts tightly in her knuckles, "not truly. Not ever."

"You said you missed your language. Why don't you speak it?"

"To whom?" she asked, petulance beginning to creep into her tone. "My father had denounced our old way of life, and Cora was always away."

"Tell me something in _Gae-lic."_

Alice reached across them and grasped his hand tightly in hers. His thumb caressed her skin between her thumb and forefinger. He liked doing that.

The child turned in her belly and jostled her in the ribs.

" _Tha gr_ _à_ _dh agam ort._ " Alice whispered the words, her heart pounding, her face pooling with heat.

"What does it mean?"

Alice smiled but did not reply.

* * *

 _Dearest Mama,_

 _I look at the stars in the night sky, and I think of you often. Sometimes I fancy I can hear the song you use to sing to me when I was a wee little girl. I cannot remember all the words. I will hum the same song to my baby. I will sing of the mist-covered mountains of the Isle of Skye._

 _Ch_ _ì_ _mi gun d_ _à_ _il an t-_ _àite san d'rugadh mi_ _Cuirear orm f_ _à_ _ilte sa ch_ _à_ _nain a thuigeas mi_

 _What was the rest of it?_

 _Gheibh mi ann aoidh agus gràdh nuair a ruigeam_ _Nach reicinn air tunnachan_ _ò_ _ir_ _._

 _Do you remember this song? Do you remember life from where you are?_

 _Mama, I wish you were here. I wish I could ask you what I should do. How to always find favor with my husband. What to do when an infant cries. How to make my sadness hide itself from the world._

 _I fear you will not recognize me when I go to face God and my judgement. I hope you remember me. I hope you smile at me on that day. I cannot even remember your face, but I still feel—_

"Finished with your prayers?" Uncas murmured, turning to blink at her from the hides in front of the fireplace. He had chopped wood all morning, checked his traps during the evening. Made some alterations to improve the farm. He was tired, and had dozed off fairly early on in the evening.

Alice nodded, rising to her feet. She closed Jack and Katarina's bible, and crept to his side.

* * *

Uncas brought up his wish to go hunting on a cool night. Alice had slipped outside to breathe in the chilled and invigorating air.

She felt his arms curl around her midriff and settle on her belly. They both felt the child turn.

"I will bring Beth," he murmured into her hair. Alice leaned back into him.

"It will not be necessary," she commented lightly. She meant it— Alice had become accustomed to solitary hours when Uncas would leave the cabin. Not that he had ever liked leaving her alone.

"I think it best," he replied mildly, "it is almost _Mechoammawi Gischuch_ _-"_

Alice sighed. "When the shad fish return, I know."

The was silence for a milky night sky above them resembled a blot of dark spilled ink, peppered with stars.

"That will be in May?" she asked softly.

Uncas nodded. "Abouts."

"Leave Beth and Ian be. It's still early. We will call upon their hospitality when the baby is due."

"I-"

"Not yet," Alice implored, turning to face him. "A few more days of us alone. Before our friends arrive. Before the baby."

Uncas's mouth softened as his gaze searched her solemnly. His eyes were bright.

"We will never be quite like this again." Alice's voice was a hushed whisper, throbbing with potent emotion. She would persuade him. She must.

"It will be better," Uncas assured her. "We will have our child with us."

Alice struggled to articulate. "I…. I want our baby. I do. I confess that perhaps at the beginning, I… no matter, now. I only wish that I had had more time to know you. To adjust. To prepare for motherhood."

Uncas nodded; as always he was silent and understanding. He respected her feelings on this matter.

"All happened really fast."

Months before, Alice reflected, his imperturbability and candid plain-spoken speech had vexed her deeply. She recalled the moments when she would respond politely, though with veiled hints of acerbity. Her unhappiness had been hard to reign in. For years her life had been a gilded cage of flowery speech and refined manners. There had been safety in habits.

Slowly, ever so slowly, with the turn of the seasons, her feelings towards him and their life together had altered.

Alice smiled. "Yes. Fast."

* * *

Uncas had been gone since before the sun had risen.

Alice was outside in the glaring sun, hanging their laundered clothes on a line to dry. It was a brisk day, but still she hoped the clothes would be dry by the time he returned. More than likely he would be caked in sweat and the blood of a large animal, and so would need clean shirts.

She herself had of late been skinning small animals— a task that she had previously reviled— and thought perhaps now she could work her way up to a small deer.

She had been laboring since early in the day. After giving the cabin a thorough dusting, and sweeping the fireplace, she had washed and scrubbed their clothes in hot water with soap made of ashes and animal fat. Her hands were red and raw.

" _Wenichana."_

Alice shrieked, dropping a blue calico shirt and spinning quickly to face her would be assailant. Reaching into her apron, she grasped the small knife Uncas had gifted her and taught her to clumsily wield.

"Peace," the speaker addressed in a commanding voice, "I mean no harm."

Alice took a wary step back, dropping her knife in shock. She recognized that face. That countenance. Those stern black eyes.

Chingachgook looked much the same as before and yet also somewhat aged. The lines of his face had deepened— or had they? He was still a shorter version of his son, squat, with unsmiling features.

Her wariness grew as the seconds dragged on and on.

 _Say something, you silly half-wit of a girl!_

She opened her mouth to give a polished greeting—

"Uncas is not here."

Chingachgook grunted, laying his large knapsacks on the ground. The sunlight was white and blinding, making Alice blink as she stared at him.

Alice winced, embarrassed at her lapse in manners. This man was, in essence, her father in law. He deserved more respect.

 _Did he ever how me an ounce of respect?_

She shook her head at her thoughts. That did not matter. She would not shame herself in front of this man, who was the blood of her husband, the father that Uncas spoke of with reverence.

"He… he went on a hunt. Not far, I think. I pray he shall return tonight."

Alice stooped to pick up his belongings and Chingachgook moved quickly, giving his head a short shake.

"No. I will carry."

Alice could not help it. Resentment began to pool in her belly and creep up her throat. She had forgotten that he found her useless. She swallowed a retort and shrugged.

"As you wish. Please come in, sir. Eat something."

* * *

The unlikely pair sat upon the table after finishing a meal of rabbit meat with potatoes.

Chingachgook eyed her stoically. Earlier as she had cooked and moved about the cabin she could feel his eyes also on her, assessing her, lingering on her protruding belly.

He did not much engage her in conversation and that suited Alice Munro just fine.

 _Hurry, Uncas._

"When will my grandchild arrive?"

Alice looked at him, uneasiness darting through her again.

"Early summer. In a month and a few weeks, we think."

"You are carrying low," he commented, cocking his head to the side.

Alice flushed pink. What a thing to say.

"Has Uncas started building his cabin?"

Alice's irritation was growing. Why was her child _his_ and a cabin his son's? Why was he questioning her so?

It was too much. The words were out before she had a chance to reign them in.

"The child is mine. The cabin will be mine as well as your son's. And I am his wife."

Chingachgook's eyes did not betray him, though Alice did not miss the faint flicker of surprise at her bold words.

"I know," was his only gruff response. He took a long drink of ale, and his eyes finally moved to something else. He took in the state of the cabin, the small touches of femininity; a dress on a hook, kerchiefs, dried bunches of lavender tied with dainty blue ribbons.

Alice looked down, fighting the growing tide of nerves and worry. What was his purpose? He had already disowned his own son for fathering a child with a white woman. Why would he suddenly show up, a scant few weeks before she was due to give birth, when he so openly disapproved of her? Would he try to take Uncas away from her?

He stood up suddenly. In the close proximity of the cabin he seemed to tower intimidatingly.

"Uncas has been making you tea?"

Alice nodded. "Peppermint."

Chingachgook grunted (so much like his son!) and rummaged though his pack, withdrawing small parcels that smelled pleasantly of herbs.

"I will boil water. Make you better tea. Good for mothers."

Alice blinked. "Thank you…." she trailed off uncertainly. She wished he had brought sugar alongside the provisions from earlier. Or at least honey.

He nodded curtly. "Used to make it for Uncas's mother."

Alice felt warmth bloom in her stomach, like tiny rays of sunshine. She rose with alacrity.

"I will boil water for us. Will you drink with me?"

He looked vaguely amused. "If you wish. Need the peppermint leaves."

"Are those red raspberry leaves?" she drew one aloft gingerly and sniffed carefully.

"Yes. And…. Yengeese call it rosehips."

It was only later, after tea, when she was occupied with folding clothing and her thoughts strayed to Uncas that she remembered the word _wenichana,_ the word Chingachgook had used as a greeting. She had heard that word from Uncas before, when he mused about their coming child.

 _Wenichana._ Daughter.

* * *

The sharp but familiar whistle came just as Alice was beginning to fret about supper.

With a sigh of relief she started for the door, tossing on her frayed apron.

"At last!" she murmured, casting a shy glance to the older man. "I know your son is so very eager to see you again, sir."

Chingachgook said nothing, though Alice felt a bit tension from him. Was he nervous?

Outside in the dying light, a tired Uncas was laying the carcass of a doe upon the wooden frames that dotted the perimeter of the cabin.

Alice took a moment to softly stroke the nuzzle of the creature; the doe's eyes stared forward, unseeing, unfeeling.

Uncas leaned in for a kiss.

"Alright?" he asked lightly, scanning her face quickly. "How was your day? How do you feel?"

Alice smiled, leaning her face closer until their noses touched. His warm lips curved into a smile.

"Eventful," she replied mildly.

"How?" he leaned back, brows raised. He avoided touching her with his bloodied hands. His gaze sharpened.

"Why is your knife on the grass?"

"Wash up in the stream quickly first," Alice chided gently, "then hurry. We have a visitor."

"What?" he asked sharply, eyes narrowing as he looked past her to the cabin. "Why didn't you tell me first? Who is it?"

"Your father."

His eyes widened. For several seconds the couple eyed each other. Uncas scanned her composed features.

"He… When did he arrive?"

"This morning."

"He say anything to you?"

Alice understood the unspoken question. "Oh, not much. He does not exactly overindulge in words. He brought us provisions, however. Hurry inside, Uncas. Best not to make your father wait. He traveled far to see you."

* * *

"The Mist Covered Mountains" is an old Scottish folk song. The phrase Alice was remembering translates to:

"I see, straight away, the place of my birth

I will be welcomed in a language which I understand

I will receive hospitality and love when I reach there

That I would not trade for a ton of gold."

I chose Inverness as the Munro girls's homeland in "Lost" on a whim, and as I began to do research on it I realized the city is very significant in Scottish history. The rebellion she spoke of really did happen, and it coincided with roughly the age I wanted Alice to be when she left Scotland for the last time. If you're interested you can read more on the Battle of Culloden— it ended in the brutal defeat of the Scottish Jacobite rising, and the heavy sanctions imposed by the English weakened the Gaelic way of life and the clan system that had existed for centuries.

Also, sorry for the delay. Stuff happened. It's also proving hard to get the characters down the way I want. Thank you for reading.


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